


Blood Like Mine

by borninthewronggalaxy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Begging, Blood, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Broken Draco Malfoy, Broken Promises, Charms, Christmas Fluff, Dark Mark (Harry Potter), Death Eaters, Draco Malfoy - Freeform, Drinking, Drunken Kissing, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Forbidden Love, Good Death Eaters, Good Slytherins, Good and Evil, Good versus Evil, Gryffindor, Harry Potter - Freeform, Hate to Love, Heavy Angst, Hogwarts, Hufflepuff, Kissing, Loss of Virginity, Love/Hate, Luna Lovegood - Freeform, Magic, Malfoy, Malfoy Manor, Mudblood, Muggles, Neck Kissing, Oral Sex, Pansy Parkinson - Freeform, Prejudice, Professor Neville Longbottom, Quidditch, Ravenclaw, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Second War with Voldemort, Sex, Shower Sex, Slow Burn, Slow Dancing, Slytherin, Spells & Enchantments, Spin the Bottle, Teasing, The Battle of Hogwarts, Top Draco Malfoy, Touching, Truth Serum, Underage Drinking, Vaginal Fingering, Verbal Abuse, Verbal Humiliation, Virginity, Wands, Wizarding World (Harry Potter), Wizards, Young Death Eaters, Yule Ball (Harry Potter), halfblood, hermione granger - Freeform, ron weasley - Freeform, spells
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:26:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 44
Words: 121,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27361951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/borninthewronggalaxy/pseuds/borninthewronggalaxy
Summary: Atelophobia:[a-tel-o-pho-bia]The fear of imperfection. The fear of never being good enough.Draco Malfoy would never associate himself with a Mudblood. A Halfblood, really, but they were all the same to him. And he would certainly never fall in love with one. Not in a million years....Right?
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 52
Kudos: 253





	1. Draco

Hogwarts was cold. So cold. Always. 

And when I say cold, I mean freezing. Even in the spring and beginnings of summer. It was like I'd stepped into a blast freezer every time I entered a classroom, and no amount of robes could cure the goosebumps that skittered over my skin. 

So the icy chill running down my spine was always already there. And it never really left, at least not all the way. 

But I only ever shivered when he was around. 

Draco. 

Even the name sounded condescending, and his last name didn't help his case either. 

Malfoy. 

Draco Malfoy. 

Even before I'd met him -- peered into his gray-blue eyes -- admired the pale hue of his skin -- felt the touch of his cold hands -- the name had caused me to pause. 

I wasn't sure why, at least not back then. Because how could I have known? 

How could I have known how I would feel about him?

How I would repeat his name in my head so many times that I would unavoidably loose count of how many times I'd remembered it. Repeat it so many times that it started to sound strange on my tongue, but also completely right at the same time. 

How I would try to savor the feeling of his touch. His lips. His hands. His skin. His soft, white hair as it slid through my fingertips. 

And how I would never, ever, be able to forget him. 

No matter how hard I tried.


	2. Two Left Feet

~six years before~

"Don't let them get to you," My father yanked my jacket tight over my chest, adjusting the wooly scarf around my neck. I squirmed away. "Okay? People are going to say things. Just -- don't let them get in your head. You're just as much of a witch as any of them. Remember that."

"I know," I nodded, shooting him a confident smile. Whether it was real or not, I wasn't even sure myself. "And I won't let it bother me. I promise."

"That word has no real meaning," He continued to talk, though it seemed like he was trying to convince himself more than me. "No real meaning." His eyes flickered over my face like he was watching a dancing flame, but they had a far away, distant look in them. He was somewhere else in his mind, and I couldn't blame him for trying to escape a bit. 

"What word?"

He hesitated. 

"Mudblood?"

"Don't say it, Cassia." He hissed, glancing around as if there was anyone else in the room to hear. I knew he was trying to sound serious when he used my real name. He never did, except when he was trying to come off as a strict disciplinarian. It didn't happen often. 

But his words came out more in a squeak than in any sort of intimidating tone, so the choice really didn't have any effect. I cocked my brow.

"I thought it had no meaning." I retorted, and he scowled, tightening my scarf once more and making me choke a bit. 

"Sorry--" He stepped back, pulling it a bit looser, "And it doesn't." He turned away from me, rolling his shoulders back and sighing before he reached for my stuffed suitcase next to the bottom of the stairs. The early morning light was still trickling in through the windows surrounding the front door, and it cast a pale light on his figure, highlighting the curve of his spine as he bent down. 

I noticed the age in his shoulders as they slouched forwards, a little more than they used to. But then again, he'd certainly been a lot more worn out lately. What, with the stress of me starting school and all. And I didn't blame him. 

I'd told him not to worry--that I would be fine on my own. But in all honesty, I wasn't so sure that I was convinced myself. 

I liked to believe that people had moved past the idea of...who I was. Who my parents were. What my blood was made up of. That it wouldn't matter once I was surrounded my people like me. People that felt the same pressures. The same stresses. Maybe even the same sense of rejection. 

Maybe it would be nice to be around people who understood. But I also knew--a heavy pit settling in my stomach--that there would be those that didn't want me there more than anything. And that there would be nothing I could do to change their minds. 

Mudblood. The word rung through my mind relentlessly, and I chewed at my bottom lip, remembering the first time I'd heard it, only a few weeks before. The memory was still fresh, as was the shock, and--though I tried to brush it off--the pain. 

I'd been standing outside of Olivander's, my new wand in hand and a wide smile on my lips. I'd never seen a place like Diagon Alley before. I'd always known that it existed, or course, but my experience with the wizarding world had been minimal. 

My mother was the one who passed it down to me--my magic. Though she never got the chance to show much of it to me. She passed away years ago, before I could even speak a full sentence. 

I don't remember much of her now. I know nothing more than a few blurry memories and the distant sound of her voice as she sang to me in my nursery. I know that she had a beautiful voice. Somehow, I could never forget that. 

My father tells me more stories about her than I can process. I don't stop him, though. I think it helps him to keep her memory alive, and it's one of the only times when he seems really, truly happy. 

Her name leaves his lips, and his shoulders lift in a way they never do. It's like they're being pulled up by invisible strings, and he beams, shaking his head as the memories flood back into his mind and to his tongue in an unstoppable flow of syllables. 

The way his eyes light up when he talks about her always makes my heart glow, and though I don't really know the person he describes, he makes me feel like I do. I wish more than anything that I really did. 

He's a muggle--of course--my father. So technically, that makes me a Halfblood witch. Not that it should matter. But as I would soon realize, it did. 

For the first ten years of my life, though, I had little to no knowledge of the issues that would present themselves to me later in life because of that fact. The pain that would become my closest friend as I realized what blood like mine made me. How it would cause people to perceive me, and what I was good for. 

My father said that my both of my mother's parents had been Muggles, and that she'd had to deal with being harassed because of it all her life because of it. He didn't want that for me. But what could he do? He couldn't heal the venom in people's hearts. 

And neither could I, though it took me years to accept that fact. 

But as I stood at the doorstep of Olivander's, staring out at the crowded street in front of me, the memory of my mother's voice suddenly came back to me suddenly, as if she was speaking to me from beyond. And for a moment, I felt warm. Safe. Like I'd finally found my place in the world. 

I wasn't half of anything. Not part muggle. Not part witch. I was just a person, who knew exactly who they were, and didn't question it for a moment. Who didn't doubt who they belonged to. Who didn't feel torn with every step. 

For once, I was whole. 

But the moment was fleeting. 

I was ripped from my thoughts as suddenly--and very purposefully--someone shoved into my figure from behind, knocking me flat on the ground with a pathetic smack. 

My face hit the stone first, of course, pain shooting up from my jaw and though my cheekbone. My skull seemed to vibrate painfully upon impact, and I groaned, tasting the bitter flavor of iron as it appeared on my tongue and mixed with my saliva. 

I laid there for a moment, moaning quietly to myself and recovering slowly. But while I did--I expected to hear some sort of groveling apology from whoever had knocked me down. Someone by my side, making sure that I was okay and trying to help me up. 

That's what I expected, but of course, the experience didn't occur. My mistake was assuming that all wizards were decent. 

All that came from behind me was the sound of hushed snickering, followed by clicking footsteps approaching the side of my body in a slow stride. They stopped, and I caught the sight of long black robes out of the corner of me eye, swaying around shiny black oxfords. 

"Got two left feet, do you Mudblood?" A mocking voice came from overhead, and I felt the blood in my veins go as cold as ice. Mudblood. It was the first time I'd ever really heard it used. Directed at me, at least. And it was even more shocking than I'd expected. 

I pushed myself up onto my hands and knees after a moment of disbelief, collecting myself with a few deep breaths before standing up all the way and brushing the dirt off my robes. I clenched my jaw tightly before spinning around on my heels, my fists balled by my sides as I turned to face my attacker. 

I'm not sure what I expected to see when I looked back, really. But whatever it was, it wasn't what I got. 

In front of me stood a thin, whitish-blonde haired boy, around my same age, but taller than I was. Granted, most people were. But with the way this boy stared down at me as if I was dirt under his shoe, I felt even smaller than usual. 

His skin was as smooth as the face of a diamond, but pale, like all the life had been drained from his veins. And his eyes were the palest of all--a color blue that was almost gray--and I sucked in a quick breath, the coherent thoughts fleeting from my mind for a moment. 

But I quickly collected myself, thinning my eyes up at him and scowling. 

By his side were two other boys, about his same age, but not anywhere near as striking looking. They were the kind of people that could blend into a crowd with no difficulty. They looked like everyone else, and everyone else looked like them. There was nothing special about their glaring expressions, and I barely paid any mind to their presences. 

"What's wrong," The boy in the center crossed his arms, a smug smile on his lips, "Cat got your tongue?" I tasted the iron on my palette once more, and for a second, I thought about spitting it back at him. But the idea passed quickly as I remembered that I didn't need any more reason for people to hate me. 

"No." I lowered my gaze, hoping that he would just walk away. Leave me alone. But of course, that wasn't what happened. A moment of pause passed before the boy spoke again. 

"You're Woodwick's daughter," He snickered to himself, glancing over at his friends and looking me up and down, "Aren't you?" I just nodded weakly in response, and the boy crossed his arms, shaking his head. 

"I knew it," He hissed, "I could tell you had the stain on you from all the way down the street."

"Stain?--" I started, but he cut me off abruptly, gesturing to his friends with a loud laugh.

"The Mudblood stain, of course." He gestured at me, and I winced. There was that word again. "Some people can't tell who belongs and who doesn't at first, but I always can."

"Can you?" I thinned my eyes, and he stepped forward. 

"I can." He stopped a few feet from my boots, making me lean back. "My father taught me how."

"Did he?" My voice got more pinched with every word, and all I wanted to do was land a punch straight to this boy's face. To knock him back on the ground and make him run away in fear. The idea was seeming more and more appealing by the second. 

"Obviously." He scoffed, his eyes floating over my face, "Don't you know who I am?"

"Not in the slightest." I raised my eyebrows, and for a moment, his pride seemed to be wounded. But he recovered quickly, brushing my words off with a shrug. 

"Draco." He said matter-of-factly, "Draco Malfoy."

Malfoy. The name was familiar, but foggy. Quickly though, and with a horrible realization, I knew why.

Luscious Malfoy. The boy's father, I assumed. My father had told me countless stories about him, and not a single one of them had been positive. The bottom line was, he hated Mudbloods, and Halfbloods. But I guessed that we were all the same in his eyes. 

Anyone who wasn't pure wasn't fit for this life. So in other words, me. I assumed that he'd taught his son to feel the same. 

I gulped, crossing my arms over my chest and glancing away.

"Oh yes," I muttered, "I've heard of your father, actually."

"I'm sure you have," Draco puffed his chest, seeming proud of the recognition, "He's very influential."

"I'm sure." I stepped back, attempting to escape this encounter as quickly as possible. I wasn't sure that I could stomach much more of it. But Draco continued anyway. 

"You see, he's one of the ones who tries to make sure that people like you don't interfere with people like us." He tilted his nose up, looking down like I was a cockroach. I shook my head, looking away as my stomach dropped. "It's unnatural, all this mixing with muggle blood."

Draco paused, scanning my figure with his gray eyes and taking the time to notice my old robes, and the new wand in my hand. I was lucky that it hadn't snapped when I'd hit the floor. My face had broken the fall instead. 

"Wait a minute," He turned to his friends, pointing at me, "Those are Hogwarts robes." My stomach dropped once more. "Where did you get those from?"

"My--my mother." I stuttered, "They're my mother's old robes." Draco nodded slowly, his lips curled into an insufferable smirk. 

"Dobbes was her last name, wasn't it?" He questioned, and I nodded. 

"Yes."

"My father's told me all about your family." Malfoy sneered, "Shame your mother was the one to go, and not your filthy muggle father."

That was it. 

I snapped like a bolt of lightning before I could even process what I was doing, my fist flying forwards and connecting square with the side of Draco's jaw in a harsh crack. A smacking sound sounded through the air, and he yelped loudly, toppling back onto his friends as his hands flew to cover his face. 

I stared down at him in disbelief, watching his figure writhe dramatically as his friends attempted to comfort him. He shoved them away, his face twisted in anger and shock, and I backed up, my eyes wide. 

"Filthy Mudblood!" He cried, his voice jumping up a few octaves higher than before, "How dare you touch me! How bloody dare you--My father will hear about this!" He kept going, his hands still covering his face like a shield, but I could barely hear him after the first few words. 

Because I took off running, my wand gripped tightly in my fist as I charged through the tight crowd, my boots slapping loudly against the cobblestone street. My heart was racing, slamming in my chest like a drum as I raced away, trying to put as much distance between myself and Malfoy as possible. 

My mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, all colliding at once and resulting in some sort of adrenaline rush that seemed to course through every cell of my body. I'd never felt more terrified, but at the same time, I'd never felt so alive. 

What had I just done? 

I couldn't believe it. I'd punched him in the face. Square in the jaw, to be exact. I could only imagine how angry he was, and I didn't want to think about what would happen if I ever saw him again. 

But as I slipped away through the packed crowd, a forbidden smile creeped over my lips. 

Because I figured that Draco Malfoy -- the most pure of all the pureblood wizards in the world -- had never been put in his place before. 

And I had to admit, it felt good to be the one to do it.


	3. The First Time

~two years before~

~year 4~

The air had started to grow crisp with a sharp chill as winter began to creep in, and I pulled my robe tight around my chest, a shiver traveling through my bones. But strangely, it wasn't from the cold. 

I never shivered from the cold, remember. Only because of him. Only ever because of him. 

I walked slowly down the open hall, eyeing the gardens past the cobblestone walls and watching a group of first years run after each other in the grass, a small ball traveling between their feet. 

"It's called football!" One of them shouted as they kicked the ball down the stretch of green, "Muggles play it!"

"Muggles?" Another huffed, "Why are we playing it, then?"

"Because it's fun." The first one snapped back, and the conversation promptly ended as the ball was punted across the field and landed at the grassy edge of a small pond. The group groaned before one them begrudgingly offered to retrieve it, and I turned my face away, smiling to myself. 

I remembered being a first year myself--though the memories weren't necessarily ones I wanted to hold onto. Being sorted into Ravenclaw--that was a good one. I'd expected it. It was my mother's house, after all, and I'd always been told how alike we were, physically and mentally. Plus, I'd gotten to re-use her robes. Though, that would come back to bite me a few times. 

But everything else about that year was much less pleasant. Mainly because Malfoy certainly hadn't forgotten about the incident in Diagon Alley, and he'd saved quite a few choice words for me for when we arrived to school. 

God, how that boy could hold a grudge. I often wondered as the years passed by how long it would take for him to get over it. The answer? Not ever. 

I remembered seeing him again like it was yesterday, hearing my last name called from behind me in the hallway as I was heading to my very first class of first year, and the way my stomach dropped at the realization of who the voice belonged to. 

"Woodwick!" His hissing tone was apparent even from far away, and I froze, gripping tightly to my books and sucking in a terrified breath. I heard his footsteps approach a second later, and for a moment I considered running. Maybe I could slip away before he got to me. But I could feel him standing close behind my back before I could make a decision, and the chance escaped me, evaporating like smoke. 

I took one last deep breath before spinning around to face him, my jaw tight and eyes thinned. 

"Yes?" I responded innocently, trying my best to ignore the intoxicating aura of his appearance. 

"I knew it was you," He scanned his eyes up and down my figure, scowling, "I could tell by those old, used robes of yours." My eye twitched, and suddenly the idea of punching him again sounded like a good idea. 

"I'm sorry," I tilted my head instead, a phony confused expression flashing over my face. "Have we met?" Draco's eyebrows furrowed instantly, and his eyes got a look in them like he was about to erupt with anger. I had to fight hard to resist the smile threatening to form on my lips. Clearly, I'd hit him where it hurt. I assumed he was used to being recognized. 

"Wha--" He stuttered, glancing around as if someone was supposed to be there to back him up. But there was no one. I wanted to smile again. "Yes."

"Remind me." I shook my head, and he scoffed. 

"You're a liar," Draco stepped closer, making my body tense, "And a filthy Mudblood. You know exactly who I am."

"Oh," I nodded, pretending to finally realize, "That's where I know you from. Diagon Alley."

"Yes, Diagon Alley." He hissed, his syllables sharp and clear, "And you attacked me, too, remember?"

"Attacked?" I scrunched my nose, "No, I think it was self defense."

"Self defense against what?" He snarled, "I didn't do anything."

"So you don't recall saying that my father should have died instead of my mother because he's a muggle?" Draco paused, his lips thinning into a straight line. 

"So what if I did say it?" He shrugged insufferably, "It's the truth." My head felt like it was about to explode in a ball of fire at his words, and my fists clenched together, my nails digging into my own palm. 

"You're disgusting." I hissed, "I'm glad I punched you. I'd do it a thousand times again."

"Would you?" Draco stepped closer again, and I stumbled back, glancing up and down his chest and face. 

And though I tried my best to ignore it--to push it out of my mind as if it wasn't there at all--it was hard not to notice the way his pale eyes twinkled, even if it was with anger. The way his robes fit him perfectly. The way his white-blonde hair stood out against the background of the hall, drawing my eyes straight to it. The way his lips parted slightly as he glared at me, curved down into a frown. 

And for the first time in my life, something suddenly flickered in my chest, but I couldn't place the feeling. Or more accurately, I didn't want to try. I might have found something I didn't want to recognize. 

"Yes." I snapped out of my daze, straightening my spine and trying to match his height. Draco paused, his jaw tightening. 

"I'd like to see you try it again," He lowered his voice, "See how it works out for you."

"Are you threatening me, Malfoy?" I matched his tone, our faces dangerously close together. My instincts told me to back away, but I ignored them. 

"Absolutely I am." He smirked, and I strong shiver traveled up my spine. 

That was the very first time, and I would remember it for the rest of my life. Even when my hands were wrinkled and old. My body weak. My memory fading, and my eyes falling closed for the last time. That was the thing I always remembered. The thing I would never be able forget. 

"Watch your mouth, Mudblood." He whispered, "It'll get you in trouble."

I opened my mouth to say something else. To snap back. To hit him where it hurt. 

But before I could, he whipped away, his robes brushing against my legs as he turned. But as he left, he glanced once more over his shoulder, shooting one last glare in my direction.

"I'll see you around, Woodwick," He called, "Maybe next time you'll show some respect."

"Don't count on it." I spat back, resisting the urge to throw my books at his head. But he ignored me, stomping down the hall and turning a corner, disappearing from sight. 

And as he did, I felt a weight lift from my shoulders, like the stress of his presence had crushed my bones and spirit alike. I groaned, regathering my books in my arms and turning back in my original direction to find my way to class. 

I'd be late now, of course. All thanks to Malfoy and his nasty attitude. 

God, I really hated him. More than I'd ever hated anyone before. It was a powerful feeling--how much I despised him and everything he stood for. His words. His family. Everything he was. 

I really hated him, and the way his hair was combed back so insufferably perfectly. The way his eyes glimmered in the light like stars. The way his words rolled off his tongue like a snake's venom, every syllable perfectly pronounced. 

But that's the thing about snakes. Once you're bit, your blood is infected--filled and tainted with the poison of their fangs. And if you aren't careful, it just might be your downfall. 

And as I hurried on to class, I was starting to feel like I wasn't going to escape this unscathed. 

I hated him. I really did...

But did I?


	4. By Chance, Not by Choice

~two years before~

Potions class. I hated potions class. With a burning, all consuming passion. 

Partially because I had a special talent for mixing just the wrong amounts of things together. And on occasion, cause explosions. But mostly because my class consisted of almost every student I despised. There were a few good ones, but their numbers were scarce. 

Oh, and Malfoy. 

He had taken every opportunity possible to get under my skin for the last four years, and man, was he good at it. He knew just what to say--just how to hurt me. He'd mastered the skill, and he knew it. 

It was like he was twisting an already stabbing knife into my heart every time he spoke, and I couldn't even begin to count all the times that I'd locked myself in a storage closet, screaming all the things I wanted to say back to him at no one. 

But strangely, the Mudblood thing in particular didn't hurt as much anymore. At least not the word itself. When someone says something so many times, it can tend to lose its effect. 

Not that its connotations still didn't sting, especially when I stared to feel like I belonged again. He would always make sure to remind me, just when he thought I needed to hear it. Right when I started to get too comfortable. 

It was around the middle of the week, and one of those days that seems to drag on forever. That clock ticked slower than usual, or at least it felt like it was, and I sighed loudly, slumping back in my chair and focusing my eyes on the professor. 

She was new, and for the life of me I couldn't seem to remember her name. Something with an "S". Or maybe an "M"? It didn't matter. I wasn't going to do well in the class anyway. 

"We'll have our first big assignment at the end of this week," The unnamed professor pointed back at the board with her wand, raising a piece of chalk from the table and scribbling the date on the blackened surface. I watched her invisible hand work, the words and numbers appearing where the talky pencil had danced along the board. 

"This is ridiculous," A girl's voice scoffed in a hushed tone from behind me, "We've just had an assignment last week."

"Yes, Mrs. Parkinson," The professor looked up from her desk, and the girl's voice quickly halted. "We did. But you see, this assignment will count for far more points than the last. You could always opt not to do it, if you so prefer. But I'll have to mark down your grade as a zero, of course."

A smile creeped across my lips. I was starting to wish I knew this professor's name after all. 

"No, no," The girl muttered, embarrassed, "I'll do it. Sorry."

"Wonderful," The professor clapped her hands, looking over the room with a wide smile. "So, the assignment. You'll all be recreating a potion." I listened as my classmates whispered between one another, the general tone sounding relieved. 

Easy enough, I thought to myself, but way too prematurely. I should have known that nothing in potions class was ever going to go smoothly for me. 

"Don't celebrate yet," The teacher laughed to herself, "You won't be recreating just any potion." A few people grumbled behind me. The professor reached across her desk, grabbing an old, thick book off the table. She lifted it up next to her head, waving it back and forth. "Has anyone ever heard of this?"

Silence fell over the room, and I furrowed my brows, staring at the book's title, traced into the surface in shiny silver print. 

"No?" She glanced over her thick-rimmed glasses, frowning. "Well, in the next few weeks, you will all become very familiar with it."

"If I have to read one more bloody book this year I think I might just throw myself off the astronomy tower." Someone a few tables away from me whispered, and the professor immediately turned in their direction, her eyebrows raising. 

"Mr. Weasley," She shook her head, "That is not an appropriate subject to joke about. And no, you don't have to read the book. Not all the way through, at least."

Ron, that's who the voice belonged to. I smiled to myself, imaging how red his face was turning.

"Bloody hell, she's got the ears of a bat."

"Oh, will you shut up, Ron?" Hermione's voice came next in a hushed tone, "Some of us actually want to to hear about the assignment."

"You're mental." Ron snapped back, and the professor just shushed them both, lifting the book again. 

"As I was saying," She looked over the class, "You won't have to read the whole thing. You will, however, have to pick out a potion from the book to recreate accurately, and it has to be one with at least thirty steps."

She paused, setting the book down on the table and flipping it open to a random page. Her wide eyes scanned quickly over the writing before she looked back up. 

"These potions are very difficult to concoct. And not to be discouraging, but usually, most students don't pass this assignment."

"Encouraging, isn't she?"

"Shut up, Ronald."

"Because of that, I've decided that this year I'll be assigning partners to make it a little easier on all of you."

Instantly, my stomach dropped. If there was one thing I despised more than potions class, it was group projects. 

"I'll tack the list of partners on the wall after class today," She closed the cover with a smack, making me jump in my seat, "And you can all check out copies of the book in the library." Whispers passed between my classmates, but I just stayed quiet, picking at a hangnail on my finger. "Make sure to start early," She added, "It might take a while."

Anxiety started to churn painfully in my stomach, and I glanced around, wondering who I would have to work with. My choices weren't looking too great, and I sighed, resisting the urge to tell the professor I was dropping out of the class. 

"And please," She raised her hands exasperatedly, "Do not ask me to let you switch partners. My decision is final, and I don't want to hear any arguments."

The rest of the class was uneventful. Boring, really. The lesson on magical herbs and fungi nearly put me to sleep, and I had to pinch myself a few times to keep my eyes from drifting closed. 

But as the class ended, and my classmates rose hurriedly from their seats to the wall to follow the professor as she tacked the list of partners to the wall, my exhaustion dissipated, and only anxiety remained, gnawing away at my nerves.

I stood begrudgingly, quickly considering walking right by the list and saving the discovery for another day. But before I could, I was stopped by the clump of students blocking the doorway, and I rolled my eyes, getting in line behind them. 

They moved like snails, whispering and giggling as they found out who they were partnered with, and glancing around to find them in the group. I shoved past a cluster of Slytherin girls, who stared at me with distaste as I slid by, whispering things I couldn't make out under their breath. 

But I didn't care. I barely even noticed. Because there was only one thing I was worried about. Only one thing that I wanted nothing more than to avoid. But a certain sinking feeling in my stomach told me to expect the worst, and I gulped, finally making my way to the wall and staring up at the parchment. 

And as I scanned my eyes down the list, searching for my name and bringing my bottom lip between my teeth, my worst fears were confirmed with a sickening scribble of letters. 

All the way at the bottom of the page, written in unmistakeable handwriting, were two names. 

Cassia Woodwick ~ Draco Malfoy

I nearly screamed. 

Instantly, I felt as though the ground was dropping out from underneath me, and I could feel heat burning at my cheeks, red flushing to my face. Everything in me wanted to explode with anger, and I was sure I was trembling with fury as I re-red the list, hoping more than anything that I'd read it wrong. 

Unfortunately, I hadn't. 

Maybe I could explain things to the professor. Maybe I could tell her how deeply my hatred for Draco Malfoy ran. How horribly he'd treated me for the past four years. How I couldn't be around him without feeling as though I might have to punch him in the face like I did all those years ago. 

This day cannot possibly get any worse, I though to myself--Prematurely, of course. Things could, and did, get much worse. 

The sound of someone clearing their throat from behind me proved it, and I tensed, the hair on the back of my neck standing straight. The initial reaction was quickly followed by a strong, tingly shiver up my spine, and I turned around slowly, my fists balled. 

His gray eyes met mine a second later, his blonde hair falling over his raised eyebrows and a scowl on his lips. And I was even more enraged as I noticed how nice the shape of them was. Perfectly rounded at his cupid's bow. Perfectly full. The perfect softness to ki...

"You're in my way, Woodwick." Draco said lowly, and I just stood, motionless.

"Walk around me, then." I spat, and he thinned his eyes just like he always did. 

"Maybe I'll choose a potion that seals your lips together," He stepped towards me, and I flinched before I could tell myself not to. "I'm sick of your attitude."

"Don't worry, the feeling is mutual," I slid away, crossing my arms, "I'm pretty sick of everything about you, too."

Draco scoffed, shoving past me with a grunt and making his way to the wall. And suddenly, I realized that not only would he see my name next to his, but I would have to be around to witness his reaction. 

My stomach did a flip, and I winced as I heard him make a disbelieving noise from behind me, his arms flying up in protest. 

"Is this some sort of joke?" He hissed, and I rolled my eyes.

"Unfortunately not."

"This is ridiculous," He raised his voice, whipping back around and stomping in front of me. When I met his eyes again, they were filled with blistering anger, his lip pulled up into a snarl. "There's no way I'm doing this."

"You think I want to either?" I gestured towards the list, "I would rather fail than spend any time with you."

"Oh please," Draco crossed his arms, "You're practically in love with me already. I bet you asked the professor to set this up."

"I--I am not." I hissed, flustered, my cheeks instantly burning red. "Where did you possibly get that from?"

"Don't try to deny it, Woodwick." He looked away, shaking his head, "I see the way you look at me."

"You mean with disgust?" I spat, "Because that's what it is."

"I'm sure." He looked back to me, his eyes pinched into thin slits. Awkward silence followed his words, and I picked at the hangnail on my finger, pulling too hard at my skin and drawing a droplet of blood from the side of my nail bed. I winced, pressing the fabric of my robe against it. 

"Look," I finally spoke, my eyes on the ground, "I don't want to do this just as much as you, but we don't have much of a choice."

Draco didn't respond. I sighed. 

"I'll be in the library tomorrow at three o'clock. Will you meet me there so we can start?"

Again, no response, but he uncrossed his arms. 

"Malfoy, come on."

"Fine." He hissed, "I'll be there."

"Thank you," I rolled my eyes, stepping past him and narrowly avoiding bumping into his shoulder. "I'll see you then."

"Unfortunately."

God, I thought to myself, the nervous pit refusing to leave my stomach, this was going to be painful.


	5. An Unknown Cause and Effect

~two years before~

The library smelled of old, dusty parchment and, faintly, some sort of spice. I inhaled deeply, trying my best to slow my nervous heartbeat as he approached in long, loud strides. I could hear him growing closer behind me, and each time his foot connected with the floor, I only felt more nauseated. 

He was next to me a second later, letting out a low grumbling noise in acknowledgement. 

"Well, let's get on with it, then." Draco muttered, slapping his books down on the desk in front of me and sighing loudly. He slumped lazily into one of the chairs, his elbows resting on the wooden surface as his hands combed through his whitish hair. 

And as he did, I couldn't help but notice that he had nice hands, and I even noted the sight of a few shiny rings on his fingers. Something foreign--and unwelcome--flickered in my chest, and I cleared my throat, quickly dismissing it from my consciousness. 

It was early morning, but as I caught my first few glances of him, he still looked more exhausted than a person should, dark gray circles settling under his eyes and casting and exhausted tone over his pale face.

"Alright," I eased into the library seat next to him, being cautious not to get too close. Well-rested Draco was already rude enough. I wasn't in the mood to see what would happen when he was sleep deprived and cranky.

I'd collected some books in my arms that I assumed we might need, and I slid them quietly onto the table, eyeing Draco as he buried his face in his hands, sighing again and rubbing roughly at his eyes. I grabbed at the edge of the book the professor had assigned, flipping it open to a bookmarked page I'd saved from the night before. 

"Okay," I started, keeping my voice soft and un-abrupt, "So, I think we should attempt this one." I paused, awaiting a response, but received none. I chewed my lip awkwardly. "What do you think?"

"I don't care," Draco said shortly, finally raising his head from his palms and a glaring out across the library "Whatever's quickest."

"Great." I rolled my eyes, sliding another one of the books towards myself and flipping it open. "Let's get started."

I flipped to another page I'd marked already, scanning my eyes over the top of the paper and running my pointer finger across the black inked title.

"The Veritaserum Potion" It read in big letters, and I nudged it towards Malfoy, who only ignored my movement.

"I think you should probably read this," I offered, nudging it again, "It has everything we need to--"

"I don't need to read it," He cut me off, his gray eyes suddenly locking with mine in a thin, nasty glare. "I already know everything I need to know. If I have to remind you, I'm the top student in the class."

"Okay, well, this is a really complicated formula. I still think you should--"

"This project is ridiculous," He continued, "I'd have it done in an hour if I were on my own." I gritted my teeth, trying to contain my temper as he began to stoke the flames.

"You know, maybe if we do it together, we can get it done in thirty minutes."

"I doubt it." He grumbled, slumping back into his chair. "And I doubt your Mudblood brain will help to solve any problems." My stomach dropped at his words, but my anger level continued to rise.

"God Malfoy," I shook my head, "I can't believe you're still on this."

"Of course I am," He snapped, "If my father ever heard that I was being forced to work with someone like you--"

"Tell him then!" I cut him off, my voice rising, "I don't give a rat's a--"

"Miss Woodwick," A female voice hissed from behind me, and I stopped, wincing. I turned slowly in my chair, shifting to meet the wrinkled face of the librarian, whose name I had long forgotten. She stared at me, her hands on her hips and her head tilted disapprovingly to the side.

"Miss Woodwick," She repeated, "You are being awfully loud. Need I remind you of the library's policy on volume?"

"No, ma'am," I groveled, shaking my head and trying my best to ignore Malfoy next to me, grinning like an idiot. If only one of the bookshelves had fallen over on his head. "It won't happen again. I'm sorry."

The librarian just nodded, glancing between me and Malfoy with thinned eyes. But slowly, she strode away, her long robes flaring out around her swaying legs.

And as she finally disappeared around the corner of a bookshelf, I gulped, preparing for whatever aggravating response Draco would have prepared. When I finally turned back to him, he was still smiling.

"I don't want to hear it," I hissed, and he let out a scoff.

"No, I think you should finish what you were saying before. What was it again? You don't give a rat's...?"

"I'm not doing this with you today," I pushed back from the table, my chair screeching loudly against the floor. The librarian's head had poked back out from around the bookshelf, but I ignored her. "You can start the potion yourself if you're going to be such an ass."

"Fine by me," Malfoy sneered, "Now you won't be here to screw things up."

I didn't respond. I couldn't, or else I would have snapped again. So instead, I just gathered my books with a frustrated huff, whipping away and stomping towards the door. I could still feel Draco's eyes on me as I reached the exit, and as soon as I disappeared around the wall, I let out a long, frustrated sigh, wanting nothing more than to scream out at the top of my lungs.

My face was burning, my cheeks bright red and extremely noticeable against the pale tint of my hair. I brushed it out of my face with a groan, eyeing a group of first years as they scrambled by, looking concerned as they observed my facial expression.

Turning away and pulling my books tight to my chest, I stomped loudly down the corridor, leaving the library and Draco's glaring eyes behind. I was fuming, smoke threatening to pour out of my ears like a chimney stack as I left, my fists clenching in and out of fists. 

My mind flickered to the wand in my pocket, and for a moment I found myself considering all the spells I could cast to make things easier. Maybe there was one that would seal his lips together--make it so that he couldn't insult me every second of the day. Or maybe I could petrify him and stick him in one of the storage closets--just for a little bit.

It would be pretty funny to watch his eyes dart around in horror, his mouth unable to produce words. Especially since I knew how much he loved to talk.

But the idea fleeted almost as quickly as it had appeared, and a wave of calm washed over me, my face cooling a bit. I sighed, continuing to walk on but lightening my step a bit. 

Because suddenly, I realized something.

Draco loved to watch people squirm--To see how much his words stung and cut and bit.

But that was just it. 

What if I didn't react at all? Or even better, what if I acted like I liked it?

It was an interesting idea, but with how incredibly fed up I was getting, it was worth a try. Anything was at this point.

And maybe, just maybe, it would work. Or at least, I'd be able to get the project done with a little less difficulty.

But as I walked away down the stony passageway, a hopeful smile creeping to my lips, little did I know what kind of effect that one tiny decision would have on my future. On his future. And on so many others'. 

And maybe If I hadn't made it, none of it would have happened.

But it's dangerous to play the game of "what if".

Regardless, I play it all the time.

Because even after all of these years, I still have so many questions.


	6. Lets Call It Even

~two years before~

The high-ceilinged room looked--and smelled--exactly the same as it had a few days before, yellowy light trickling in through the tall windows and dotting speckles of sun over the tops of the library tables. 

I breathed in, exhaling quietly and glancing around at the students scattered across the wide space of the room, their shoulders haunched as they leaned over different books and scrolls, the distinct smell of old parchment hitting me next. 

But I didn't focus on it for long, because before I could notice anything else, I spotted him, sitting in a back corner with his face hidden by his hand and his long black sleeve pulled over it. 

For a second, I thought about touching his shoulder--just lightly--to let him know that I was there. But that wasn't the best plan, I quickly decided. That would be far too out of character for me. And on second thought, why had I even considered it? Aside from the fact that it was completely unlike me to want to get any closer to Draco Malfoy than I had to, it was also entirely possible that his response would be to slap me away. 

I decided instead to walk up slowly to his side, standing there in dead silence for a moment while he failed--or pretended not--to notice me. It was a few long, awkward moments before I finally cleared my throat.

He let out a long, exasperated sigh. Great. So he had known I was there. 

"Do you need something?" He didn't look up. Didn't even move his eyes in the slightest glance. I tightened my jaw. 

"Yes, actually."

"Get on with it, then."

"We need to work on our project." I stepped closer, and he made a face. Something inside of me wilted before I could stop it. "I've been doing some more research, and I got a hold of a few of the ingredients--"

"I was planning on meeting with our professor," He cut me off, finally looking up in my direction. "About switching partners."

I stalled, my mouth hanging open a bit as an instinctual streak of anger shot through me. My first idea was to snap back. To tell him that he was being insanely dramatic--per usual--and that if he would just cooperate with me and stop being such an ass, that we'd be able to work smoothly together. But I didn't say any of that. Because I remembered what I'd come here for. 

Think of your plan, I told myself, at least try it out. So swallowing the anger beginning to bubble up in my chest, I took a deep breath. 

"Really?" I responded, crossing my arms calmly, "You think that's necessary?"

"Definitely." He thinned his eyes, "Don't you agree? Just the other day you were saying that you didn't like this situation any more than me."

"No, actually." I tried my best to relax my face, "I--uh--I changed my mind about that. And I was going to apologize to you." Draco furrowed his brows. "For the other day." It was painful--impossible almost--to utter the words, but I managed, keeping the fury boxed up inside my heart. "I shouldn't have acted that way."

Draco paused, looking me up and down suspiciously. But after a moment, his doubting expression melted away, and he sat back, smirking. 

"Look who's finally come to their senses," He mocked, crossing his arms like a smug idiot. An extremely punchable idiot, at that. "Well, let's hear it then."

"Hear what?"

"Your groveling apology." He raised his eyebrows, "Maybe if it's good, I won't talk to the professor."

"Okay..." I swallowed the lump of pride in the back of my throat, my nails digging into my palms. "I'm...I'm sorry."

"For what exactly?"

"For raising my voice at you."

"And?"

"And for insulting your father."

"Go on."

"And...for having an attitude?" I was running out of things to apologize for, but he seemed like he wanted me to keep going. "And...uh...for punching you a few years ago."

"There it is." Draco nodded, looking all too pleased with himself. He had that smile on his lips that I despised so deeply. Even the way his mouth curved upwards in such a perfect shape made me angry. The way his lips looked so soft, so plush, so... 

"Good then," He said, snapping me back into reality. "I'm glad you see now how vile you've been."

"Yes." I said in a nearly-hissed tone, "I understand now. Completely."

"Brilliant." He lowered his voice, "You see? My father was right. Everyone figures out their place eventually."

"Mhm." My mask of pleasantness was seconds from fracturing, so I quickly turned away from his piercing gaze, pulling out the seat next to him and slumping down into it. "So," I spoke before he could say anything else infuriating, "We can stay partners, then?"

He mulled it over, nodding slowly. 

"I suppose." He met my eyes again, and a sudden shiver traveled up my spine. It had been happening frequently, the shivers. I hated them. Hated the way they made me feel so...fragile. "As long as you don't mess anything up."

"Great." I nodded. "And I won't."

"You'd better not. I'm not failing this project because of you and your distorted Mudblood brain."

Pang. A strange feeling twinged in my chest. I shook it off without so much as a second thought. It was nothing, anyway. 

"Great." I repeated, a little more aggressively than I'd meant to. But I paused after the word left my lips, an idea popping into my head. The words floated to the tip of my tongue, and I smiled weakly, "I'm glad we'll be getting to spend more time together."

Draco froze, his eyes flashing a foreign expression that I could only identify as confusion and...shock? Maybe something in between. His brows furrowed more dramatically than they ever had before. 

"You're what?"

"I'm glad we'll be getting to spend more time together," I repeated, "I think we got off to a bad start when we first met. I've never really gotten to know you." Draco scoffed. 

"A bad start? You punched me in the face."

"And you said my father deserved to die instead of my mother." I rolled my eyes, my mask slipping for a second. "Let's call it even." Draco scowled, turning away and tightening his jaw. 

"Fine. Even."

"Great." I said again, a fake smile on my lips. "I have time tomorrow after class to get some work done, if you're free."

Draco twisted the thick, silver ring around his pointer finger, looking me up and down. 

"Fine." He said again, just a tiny bit less aggressively. "That's fine."

"Alright," My chest swelled. This was actually kind of working. "I'll see you then."

I stood up from the table before he had the chance to respond, whipping away and striding towards the exit. And as I went, I couldn't help but let another smile form on my lips--a flutter of something born in my chest. 

It was a good feeling. A happy one. 

I liked it. 

And I know that I didn't understand what it was back then, of course. Or that I would feel the same sensation a million times over, but that it would only grow stronger and stronger the more that time passed on. 

Or how desperately I would wish to feel it again once everything was behind me.

Once it was all in the past. 

How I would give anything to experience it again--just one last time. 

Before he was just a memory. A distant, far away memory. But one that I would try to conjure up at every chance I got. 

Because after so much time has passed, sometimes you begin to wonder if the thing you remember so clearly--so vividly that it's like it's still happening--even happened at all. 

But I know that it did. I know. 

Because though memories may fade, and lose their shine and sharpness, the feelings never leave you. 

Though, at some times, you may want them to.


	7. Quite the Gentleman

~two years before~

I hovered over the small cauldron, peering down at the clear liquid inside. It churned slowly around the metal ladle, and Malfoy sighed next to me, his wrist moving in slow, lazy circles. 

"Are you sure we're supposed to stir it this much?" I glanced over at him, who gave me an "obviously" look in return. 

"Yes." He propped his elbows on the table, "Didn't you read the instructions?"

"I skimmed them."

It had been two weeks. Two weeks since we'd decided that we were even. Two weeks that we'd been trying our best to be civil--though one of us was definitely putting in more of an effort than the other. 

"Of course." Draco mumbled, and I shot him a glare. But that was it. 

Don't snap back, I told myself, exhaling slowly and letting the frustration drain from my mind. I was pretty proud of the self control I'd shown for the past two weeks, and I wasn't about to mess up my streak now. Because little by little, my tactic was working. 

Draco seemed to hate me just a little bit less every time we interacted. Or maybe he just wanted to get the project done as fast as possible. But either way, it wasn't like him to not insult me every time we spoke, so there definitely some form of improvement. He hadn't called me a Mudblood for at least three days now. 

I was shocked, to say the least. And pleasantly surprised. 

He finished stirring, resting the ladle against the side of the cauldron and bringing his hands up under his chin. His eyes fluttered closed, and he breathed deeply, his chest rising in falling in steady inhales and exhales. 

He looked so tranquil when he wasn't speaking, I noticed with a smirk, looking him up and down and focusing on the way his face relaxed when his eyes were closed. And maybe if I didn't know him, I would have thought he looked almost...approachable? 

But as his gray eyes snapped back open, the calm expression faded as quickly as it had appeared. He thinned his lids, scowling over the dimly lit room and staring towards the door. 

"I have a quidditch match to get ready for today, and I'm stuck here doing this. Again." He grumbled, rubbing roughly at his eyes. 

"You know, you can go if you want." I offered, "I can handle things here."

"I'm not so sure," He shot me down, shaking his head, "I'm not interested in having to start this whole project over."

"I'm not going to mess it up." I rolled my eyes, "Plus, all that's left to do today is to add one more ingredient and stir."

"I'm not leaving." He crossed his arms, slumping back even further in his chair. 

"Fine." I glanced over at him, "Then no more complaining."

"I'm not--" He started to argue, but was promptly interrupted as the door to the potions classroom swung open, and a group of girls hurried inside, a stack of books in several of their arms. I spotted their Slytherin robes a moment later, and something in my stomach dropped. 

One of them I recognized--Pansy. Pansy Parkinson. I frowned, thinning my eyes as she set her books down on one of the tables and turned around towards Draco and me. And when she spotted us--or him, more accurately--a wide, devilish smile crossed her pursed lips. 

"Oh Draco," She called, swaying towards our station. "I didn't know you'd be here." She ignored me completely as she stopped in front of the table, her head tilted flirtatiously to the side and an insufferable smirk on her lips. 

"I won't be for long," He nodded towards the cauldron, "Our work's nearly done for today."

"Oh," Pansy's eyes drifted from Draco, to the brewing potion, to me. Her smiled slowly disappeared as we locked gazes. "Cassia. I didn't see you there."

"Hm." I made a small noise in response, and she turned away with a poorly-veiled eye roll, back to Draco. 

"Well anyways, you'll be at the party tonight, won't you?"

"Obviously." Draco scoffed, "Who won't be there?"

My stomach dropped again. What party? 

"Brilliant." She smiled wider, and something inside me lit on fire. "Well...I hope I'll see you."

"Yes, I'll be there, so..." Draco looked away from her, seeming thoroughly uninterested in the conversation. But Pansy stood awkwardly in front of us for a few moments before she finally got the hint. 

"Well, I have to be going," She tried one last time to lock eyes with him, but he didn't return the sentiment. Her cheeks went red. "I'll see you tonight?" He just nodded weakly, and she turned away, whispering something to herself as she left. 

I fought the smile pleading to form on my lips as she stalked away, her shoulders weighed down by defeat. 

"Wow Malfoy," I turned to him once she was out of hearing range, "It seems like you've got yourself a girlfriend."

"Oh please," He scoffed, glaring in the direction of Pansy and her group of girls, now huddled around her in a tight, whispering circle. "I'm not interested."

"No?" I offered him a smile, but he just continued to scowl. "Why not?"

"I'm allergic to desperation." He said simply, "And she reeks of it." A loud laugh escaped past my lips before I could stop it, and Pansy's group turned over their shoulders to glare at me. I clapped a hand over my mouth, looking down at my desk and giggling quietly. 

"You must have very high standards." I whispered after a few moments, keeping my eyes on the cauldron, though I could feel the cluster of girls still glaring daggers in my direction. "Even a pureblood Slytherin doesn't interest you."

"I didn't say she wasn't attractive," He grumbled, and for some strange--unexplainable reason--my stomach dropped. I cleared my throat, pushing the feeling away. 

"Oh really?"

"She's average." He shrugged, "Good for a snog, maybe. Nothing more." I rolled my eyes. 

"You're quite the gentleman, aren't you?"

"I'm being honest." He put his elbows back on the table, his chin in his palms. "Plus, I'm not the relationship type."

"Oh trust me, I can tell." I paused after the words left my tongue, hoping that he wouldn't snap back. But to my relief, Draco went silent beside me, the only sound other than the whispering of the group of girls the quiet bubbling of the potion in front of us. 

A few minutes passed by in quiet waiting, but slowly, a bit of smoke started to rise from the cauldron, making me sit up in my seat. 

"Yes," I celebrated, grabbing the ladle and stirring delicately, "It's working."

"Of course it is," Draco added, "I'm the top of the class, remember?"

"Yes, I remember." I shot him a playful glare, "You talk about it all the time."

"You would too, if it were you." 

"Yeah, probably." I laughed, the two of us going quiet again for a moment before I remembered something. "Wait, what party was Pansy talking about?"

"You haven't heard about it?" Draco scoffed, "Interesting."

"Oh, quit being an ass." I rolled my eyes, "Tell me."

"It's a sixth year's party." He grabbed the ladle from me, stirring just a bit faster than I had been. "In the Slytherin common room."

"Oh," I nodded, "So the whole school will be there, then?"

"Everyone but you, apparently." He smirked to himself, and for a split second I forgot who he was, punching lightly at his arm and laughing. 

But just as soon as I did, I didn't know why I had. And a second later, all I felt was awkward regret. I froze, as did Draco, a confused look on both of our faces as I yanked my hand away and back into my lap.

"Sorry," I quickly shook my head, leaning away from his side. He said nothing, which only seemed to make things worse, and I tightened my jaw, wishing I knew how to apparate out of the room with a snap of my fingers. 

To distract my eyes from the expression on his face, I glanced up at the clock on the wall as Malfoy shifted in the seat beside me, suddenly noticing that I was starting to cut it pretty close if I wanted to make it to my next class on time. 

"Shit," I cursed under my breath, "I've got to go." He furrowed his brows further.

"Wait, you're not going to leave me here to clean up all alone, are you?"

"Yes." I pushed back from the table, grabbing my satchel off the table and rushing towards the door. I glanced quickly over my shoulder, calling back to him, "I am!"

"Woodwick--"

"Have fun!" I rounded the corner into the hallway, "I'll see you at the party!"


	8. It's Only a Game

~two years before~

The smell of alcohol hit my nose far before I even found the party, but I could tell I was close. The sound of cheering and laughing was just beginning to echo down the halls as I stepped towards the Slytherin common room, my heart starting to beat faster and faster the closer I grew. 

I could feel the rhythm of the music as its beat vibrated through the stone floor, and I shivered, the thought of walking into the room all alone making me nauseated. Sure, I would know people there. But the truth was, there was only one person I was really going to see. 

Even if I wouldn't admit to myself that that was the real reason. 

I turned a corner, coming up on a group of people standing out in the hallway, all of whom were already very clearly intoxicated. They leaned back against the wall, full cups in their hands as they swayed back and forth and laughed about who knows what. 

And as they did, I couldn't help but envy them. They looked like they were having fun. More fun than I was sure I would have tonight. 

I passed by, getting a few whoops and hollers from some of the boys. But I ignored them, wringing my hands together as I turned one last corner, coming up on a stone wall. The hallway dead ended here. This must be it. 

I stared up at it, utterly helpless at knowing how I was supposed to get in. I didn't know the password, and I hadn't considered needing to ask someone earlier what it was. No one was around to help, so I just stood there stupidly, my heart beating out of my chest as the wall stared back at me. 

But a second later, a noise from behind my back caught my attention, and I turned to see two girls, dressed in Slytherin robes, swaying towards me with their arms locked together. They were visibly drunk, but still somehow knew that they were supposed to shoot me a glare when they saw that I wasn't from their house. 

Or maybe they just didn't like me, specifically. It didn't matter. 

But what did was when they shoved past my body and towards the wall, not uttering a word before their figures sunk into the stone surface like they were ghosts, passing through with ease and leaving me alone again. I gawked, nearly slapping myself for my stupidity.

Of course. The wall had a spell on it. Clearly, if you were throwing a party that you wanted the whole school to come to, you'd get rid of the need for a password. I couldn't believe I hadn't thought of it. But then again, I was slightly distracted. 

I cleared my throat, adjusting my dark blue sweater over my chest before I stood up straight, my hands clenched into fists by my sides. The sad reality was that I'd never really been to a party before. Not one like this, at least. My nervous, churning stomach threatened to bring vomit to the back of my throat, but I swallowed it, shaking my head and preparing myself. 

And a second later, I stepped forward, closing my eyes and feeling myself sink into the wall like it was smoke. I pinched my eyes tighter, continuing to walk until the strange sensation of the magic faded away, and I opened my lids, finding myself standing in a dimly lit passageway all alone. 

I could hear the music louder in the dark hall, the smell of drinking and smoking assaulting my nose once more. I had to be only a few steps away now, and my chest was about to explode with the slamming of my heart. Maybe I was going into cardiac arrest. Oh well. 

I continued on with slow, quivering steps, reaching the end of the corridor and coming up on an open entryway, the party finally meeting my gaze. 

The Slytherin common room laid out before me, dark, green, and exactly how I'd expected it to be. The walls were stony, and seemed to make the room more intimidating with their rough, unpolished surfaces. A giant fireplace rested in the middle of the room, dark leather couches surrounding it, covered in students laughing and relaxing, cups filled with different liquids in their hands. 

A set of short stairs came up below my feet as I ventured into the room, and I descended them, avoiding the students scattered over the steps, laying back and looking up at me like I was the one in the wrong place. 

But I didn't pay too much attention to them, because my eyes were scanning over the room with one sole purpose: to find him. I searched for his whitish-blonde hair in the crowd like it was a lighthouse in the darkness, and before long, I found it. 

My heart lurched in my chest, and I rolled my shoulders, trying to get rid of the jittery feeling coursing through my entire body before I stepped in his direction.

He was sitting in front of the fire place on one of the couches, his arms resting on the back of the sofa with two Slytherin girls underneath them. His ring covered hands were on their shoulders, and he squeezed tighter into their biceps, making both of them smile and giggle. 

A flicker of something unpleasant flared up in my chest, and I gulped. Maybe I shouldn't go up to him. We weren't friends, I had to remind myself. Just project partners. He wasn't spending time with me because he wanted to. 

With an embarrassed flush of red to my cheeks, I turned away, swiveling on my heels and bolting back towards the entryway. I wasn't sure why I'd even come. Clearly, no one wanted me here. Especially not--

"Woodwick!" A voice sounded from behind me. A familiar voice.

Draco's. 

I froze, my heartbeat doing the same, before I turned back around, my face surely as pale as his always was. His smirking expression met my gaze a moment later, and he unhooked his arms from over the two girls' shoulders. They frowned, their gazes shifting to me with a glare. But I didn't care. 

Draco stood, stepping over the legs of the students in the way and making his way over to me. He was a few short feet away from my face a moment later, and for some reason, my breath hitched in my throat. 

"I really didn't think you would come." He looked me up and down, "This doesn't seem like your scene."

"Well it is." I snapped back, overcompensating with my rude tone to overrule the flicker of a certain feeling in my chest, "You just don't know me very well."

"You're right," Draco nodded, still smiling, "I don't." I paused, bringing my bottom lip between my teeth. 

"Well, are you going to introduce me to people or not?" I raised my eyebrows, and Draco scoffed, his eyes looking softer than usual. Maybe he was drunk. But I knew deep down, he wasn't.

"Only if you behave."

"I--" My cheeks went red for the millionth time, "Fine."

"Brilliant." He stepped away, gesturing for me to follow him, which I did, my feet feeling like bricks as I moved closer to the group of students on the couch. They looked at me with distain as I approached, and they seemed even more alarmed that Draco was leading me there, flopping back down on the couch between the two girls. But he didn't put his arms back around them. 

I found an empty spot on the couch across from his, sitting awkwardly between a boy and another girl. Both Slytherins, I realized. Actually, everyone around Draco was a Slytherin. I'm not sure why I was surprised. Of course no one from any of the other houses would try to sit near him. I still wasn't sure why I was either. 

"So," Draco tilted his head, running a hand through his hair. "Everyone, this is Cassia Woodwick."

"You're in my potions class, aren't you?" One of the girls next to Draco thinned her eyes, "You and Draco are partners for the project?"

"Oh, yes." I nodded, "We are." The girl smiled at my words in a way that I knew wasn't genuine. And a second later, she leaned towards Draco's ear, lifting her hand to the side of her mouth and shielding her words as she whispered something to him. But she didn't try to conceal it very well. 

As I sat awkwardly in front of them, I could make out most of the words. Or at least the ones that mattered. I kind of wished I hadn't been able to, though. 

"Was this some sort of pity invite?...doesn't look like she belongs at parties...sad..."

Draco didn't respond, just leaned away, his smile turning into a straight line on his lips. I gulped, feeling ten times more uncomfortable than I had before. I thought it couldn't get any worse, but then the girl turned back to me, the same phony smile on her lips. 

"You know, actually, I've heard about your family," She tilted her head innocently, "I'm so sorry about your mother. That's so tragic." 

I didn't respond. If I had, I might have something I would regret.

"So you live with your father now?" She continued.

"Mhm."

"But...he's a muggle, isn't he?" 

My jaw was tight--nearly about to snap.

"Yes." 

"Ah," The girl nodded to herself, "That certainly explains things." I thinned my eyes. 

"Excuse me?"

"Woodwick, maybe you should--" Draco started, glancing between me and the girl. 

"No, it's fine." I cut him off, standing abruptly, "I was just leaving, anyway." I stomped away before he could stop me--not that he ever would have--heading for the punch bowl across the room and dunking a cup into the brightly colored liquid. 

I didn't really know what I was drinking. And in all honestly, I didn't care. Hopefully, though, it had alcohol in it. 

I downed a cup full in a few big gulps, wincing as the strong flavor coated my tongue and throat. But I wasn't done. 

I poured more, downing it again and gasping as the last drops slid down my gullet. One more cup and I was starting to have enough, so I set it down on a table and made my way into another room, my head already starting to buzz. 

It had been a few minutes since I'd left Draco, and when I looked back towards the couches, he wasn't there anymore. I sighed. Why was I still looking for him anyway?

The next room I entered was even darker than the last, and the music was blasting louder and more aggressively. Similarly, the smell of smoking was much stronger in here, and as I glanced around, vapor stung at my eyes, and I groaned, fanning it away. 

But before long, something else caught my attention, and I stalled. 

Draco was sitting on the floor in a small circle, leaning back on his forearms as Pansy whispered something into his ear. She was seated alarmingly close to his side, her hand on his shoulder, and my fists clenched tightly, fire blossoming in my chest. 

She was laughing at something, but he refused to return the sentiment, his lips pulled into an annoyed frown and his eyebrows furrowed. For some reason, his expression made me feel just a little bit better. 

But the feeling quickly fleeted as my eyes fell on something else, sitting in the middle of the circle.

A bottle. An empty, glass bottle. My heart skipped a beat, and suddenly I was nauseated, but not from the drinks I'd just chugged. 

"Come on, Draco." Pansy pulled at his robe, "It's fun!"

"Hm." He just grunted in response, and suddenly, my feet were moving. Fast. Towards him. 

If I'd been thinking clearly, maybe I wouldn't have gone up to the circle. I probably wouldn't have sat down across from Draco and Pansy, crossing my legs and putting my hands in my lap like I was feeling calm and collected. 

I probably wouldn't have watched as Pansy spun the bottle first, and of course, landed right on Draco. 

And I wish that I hadn't stayed around to watch her turn to him, smiling from ear to ear as her eyes flickered hungrily over his face. His expression stayed the same--blank and almost bored looking. At least until she leaned forward, her hand moving onto his chest and to the back of his head, her fingers sliding through his scalp. 

Then his eyes closed, and her lips pressed lightly against his. 

The kiss deepened before I could turn away, and he sucked in a quick breath, shifting and moving closer to her, his hand sliding onto her thigh. That's when something inside of me snapped. 

I'd never experienced it before--such an intense feeling. It took over every inch of my body--made me quiver with something I could only identify as pure rage. I felt like I could wipe out the entire room with just a glare, and my jaw was clenched so tightly by the time they finally finished, I was sure it would be stuck that way forever. 

Draco pulled away first, clearing his throat as a bit of color showed at his cheeks. Pansy, on the other hand, was beaming, unable to hide her excitement as she looked towards her friends, giggling like an idiot. 

I'd never thought about using the death curse before. But the idea was now present in the back of my mind. 

"Okay," Someone else in the circle chimed in. "She landed on you Draco. Now it's your turn to spin."

Draco stalled, keeping his eyes on the ground, but slowly reached for the bottle, his ringed fingers closing around it. He flicked his wrist, sending it into a spin and watching as it started to slow. 

And as it did, I stared with wide, disbelieving eyes. Because the more it lagged, it almost started to look like it was headed for...

It stopped. 

And with it--my heart. 

The mouth of the bottle was pointed straight towards me. There was no mistaking it. It wasn't even slightly tilted towards someone else. It had landed directly in front of me, pointing in a straight line through my body. 

I stared down at it, not having the slightest idea of what to do. I wasn't even sure if I could move, my body feeling locked in its position like I'd frozen over with ice. 

"This is ridiculous," I heard Pansy whisper-hiss to one of her friends, but I ignored her, my gaze slowly lifting from the bottle. And as soon as it did, my eyes locked immediately with Draco's, all the air leaving my lungs at once. 

His face was blank. Expressionless. But in his eyes, I almost thought I saw something. Something I'd never seen in his irises before. But I was also sure that in my intoxicated state, I was imagining it. 

His gaze flickered over my face, and his lips parted slightly, his eyes suddenly focusing on my mouth. He shifted, moving onto his knees and leaning towards me. I shivered before doing the same. 

Moments later, we were only inches apart, our eyes locked together in a way that made it feel unescapable. 

"We don't have to do this, Woodwick." He whispered, and for a moment, I considered it. But I didn't need to. I knew what I wanted to do.

I slid forward before I could change my mind, my lips connecting with his in a soft, nervous kiss. Draco seemed to pause for a second, surprised at my advance, but slowly, the shock melted away, and he relaxed, his mouth melting against mine.

And a moment later, the kiss wasn't gentle anymore. 

He sucked in a deep breath through his nose, his hand moving up into my hair and gripping at my scalp, urging me to move closer. I did, my hands sliding onto his chest and pulling at his robes, my mind forgetting who he was for a second and letting my instincts take over. 

I trailed my hand up and back to the nape of his neck, feeling the base of his hairline and running my fingernails through it, making him quiver slightly. 

And before I knew it, his tongue was in my mouth, swirling around mine and making me lightheaded. 

It was like we'd been doing this for years. I'd never kissed someone that made it feel so right. So easy. So effortless. It was like he knew how to drive me crazy, holding back at some points and letting go at others. But every second of it was one I wished I could repeat forever. 

I'm not sure how long it went on. To me, it felt far too short. 

Because he was all I could think about. His lips on mine. His hand in my hair. My hand on his chest and at the back of his neck. Nothing else registered in my mind. There was no room for it to. 

And I barely even remembered that other people were still there, the realization only hitting me as the sound of Pansy's voice snapped through the room. 

"Draco!" She hissed, and I yanked away from his lips, panting and looking around with wide eyes. My cheeks burned brighter than they ever had as I realized that everyone in the circle, and the rest of the room, really, was staring straight at me, their mouths hanging open in disbelief. 

"Bloody hell, Draco." Someone laughed, reaching forward and punching him in the arm, "Get a room next time."

"Oh, please." He rolled his eyes, "It's only a game."

Only a game. Only a game. Only a game. Only a game. 

The words spun through my mind, and suddenly, I felt nauseated again. 

I stood up abruptly, the sudden realization of the amount of alcohol I'd downed hitting me like a brick wall. I swayed weakly like a tree in the wind, nearly losing my balance as I ripped my eyes away from Draco and the rest of the circle, my mind spinning faster than a hurricane. 

I didn't say a word as I stumbled away, but his refused to leave my head. 

Only a game. Only a game. Only a game. Only a game.

Of course it was. Only a game. Why had I considered anything different? And why did I want to?

I don't remember what occurred from the time I left the circle to the time that it took me to reach the hexed wall of the common room. I don't recall how I got back out into the main hallway. 

And I don't remember tripping down the first flight of stairs I found, falling headfirst into a hard, stone step and blacking out completely. 

All I remember is when I woke up. 

When he found me.


	9. Un-Malfoy

~two years before~

The figure was blurry when I first opened my eyes. I say opened, but they were more half-closed, and I couldn't make out anything in detail for the initial few minutes. 

I couldn't hear very well either--or at least I couldn't hear anything over the high pitched ringing that had appeared in my ears--and though I could tell someone was speaking to me, I had no idea what they were saying. 

And I couldn't seem to form any words in my mind as the mystery person slipped their hands underneath my back, lifting me off the ground and resting my body against the wall. My head lulled to the side as soon as I was seated upright, and their hand moved to my cheek, pushing me lightly back into position. 

I still couldn't speak, but I knew I was making little noises, dull pain appearing at the side of my scull near my temple and growing slowly. 

Whoever it was helping me slumped down onto their knees in front of my weak figure, their hands held up as if they were waiting for me to collapse again. But I didn't, and finally, some of the blurriness in my eyes started to wear off. 

I shook my head, but quickly regretted it, a jolt of pain searing through my skull. I whimpered, lifting my hand to it, but as soon as I moved, the person reached forward, stopping me and bringing my hand back to my lap. 

"Shhh," The blurry figure hushed me, and for the first time, I could make out what they were saying. "Don't touch it."

That voice. 

Even in my intoxicated, dizzy state, it sounded all too familiar. 

My eyes closed again, and I rolled them around in their sockets, trying to clear some of the blur from my vision. When they finally opened again, it had actually worked a little bit, my eyes adjusting like they normally did and focusing on the person in front of me, who I could now see relatively clearly. 

Only the details of their face were still hidden. But as I stared down at their green and black robes, noticing the white-blonde of their hair, and the shine of their silver rings, I suddenly realized what was happening. 

"Malfoy?" I heard myself whisper, and the figure nodded. 

"You hit your head, Woodwick." He spoke quietly, "You're bleeding pretty bad."

As soon as he said my last name, all the memories came flooding back like a busted dam, and I shivered, the mixture of feelings overwhelming me all at once. I thought about his lips--the way they felt pressed against mine. The way they were so soft, and plush, and full. 

The way his fingers felt as they combed through my hair. The way his tongue slipped between my teeth with ease, swirling with mine and making me lightheaded. 

The way no one had ever kissed me like he had. 

"I'm--" I stuttered, lifting my hand again, "I'm what?"

"Bleeding. You've got a gash on your head." I reached for it, touching delicately at the source of the now throbbing pain and wincing as sharp fireworks of agony shot through my nerves. When I brought my hand back in front of my face, my fingertips were covered in bright red blood, making me even more lightheaded than I already was. 

"I need to get you to the infirmary," He muttered, looking me up and down, "Can you stand?"

"I, uh--" I glanced around, trying to get a grip of my surroundings. I was still a little confused about what was going on, but I took a deep breath, trying to slow the spinning of my mind. "Yes. Yes, I can."

"Try it." Draco moved off his knees, giving me room to stand up from the wall. I paused, gathering my strength before I placed my hand on the ground, pushing with all my strength off the stone floor and hoisting my figure upright. 

For a few seconds, I was fine. But then a wave of dizzy nausea crashed over me--whether it was from the alcohol or the possible concussion, I wasn't sure. I wobbled, my knees buckling within moments and giving out like someone had smashed my bones with a sledgehammer. 

But before I could collapse, Draco's hands were wrapped around my arm, holding me up and yanking me towards him. And next thing I knew, his arm was hooked around my waist, holding me to his side and keeping me off the ground. 

My head lulled again, my skull suddenly feeling too heavy to hold up, but Draco just started to walk forward slowly, making sure that my feet were moving along with his. They were, but my movements were delayed, and a few times I tripped, making Draco re-adjust his hold around my waist to make sure I didn't slip to the ground. 

"What did you do to yourself, Woodwick?" He grumbled as he helped me along, his chest rising and falling with exhausted huffs. 

"I don't remember." I choked, my head spinning so quickly now that I thought I might vomit.

"How drunk did you get?"

"I'm not drunk--" I was interrupted by a hiccup, and Draco snickered to himself. 

"Sure you're not."

He lugged me along for what seemed like forever, and at one point I even convinced myself that I could feel his heartbeat slamming through his chest as I leaned against it. He led me down hallway after hallway until we reached one that I finally recognized. 

I knew the infirmary was close, and I smiled at the thought of being able to lay down. I'm sure Draco was even more relieved that he wouldn't have to carry me much further. 

Although in the back of my spinning, dizzy mind, a part of me didn't want to be there yet. 

"Almost there," Draco panted, "Almost."

"Malfoy..." I groaned, and he re-adjusted his grip. 

"Hm?"

"Why are you helping me?" I muttered quietly, my head still hung, "You could have just left me there." He scoffed. 

"And have to finish the potions project by myself? No thank you."

I knew he was joking. But really...why had he helped me? He could have easily left me there to bleed out on the ground. Actually, I would have expected for him to. 

This sequence of actions was very un-Malfoy-like. 

But I couldn't focus on the thought for long, because as soon as Draco pulled me to the doorway of the infirmary, Madame Pomfrey rushed out to greet us, asking him a million questions at once in a worried tone. 

"What happened to her...how long before you found her...yes, I can help, of course."

She opened the door a moment later, beckoning for Draco to follow her inside with me at his side. He pulled me into the room, leading me to the side of a cot and letting my body lower down onto the soft surface. 

I sighed with relief as my head sunk into the soft pillow, and I closed my eyes for a few minutes, listening as Draco and Madame Pomfrey continued to talk in a hushed tone. 

"I think she fell down the stairs." He said as I peeked up at them, "She's drunk. Probably just lost her balance."

"Oh dear," Madame Pomfrey shook her head, "It's a good thing you found her when you did. She may have a concussion."

Malfoy didn't respond--only turned his head in my direction, his eyes floating over my body with a strange look in them. 

"I need to go get some bandages for the wound," Pomfrey glanced down at me, "Would you mind staying here a little longer while I'm gone."

Draco considered it for a moment before nodding, and she thanked him, hurrying towards the door and slamming it behind her. With that, the two of us were left alone, and Draco let out a long exhale, his hair flopping messily over his eyes. 

He was silent for a few minutes, his hands resting on the metal backboard of the cot and sliding from side to side. But suddenly, he spoke. 

"Why did you leave the party?"

"Because I wanted to." I grumbled, and he rolled his eyes, stepping over to the side of the bed and staring down at me. 

"You should have stayed." He continued, "All the other guys wanted to have their turn with you."

"That's vile." I grumbled, and Draco snickered. "You can tell them I'm not interested."

"Really?" He raised his eyebrows, "You seemed pretty eager to play the game." I'm not sure how brightly my cheeks blushed, but I know they did. Even in my fucked-up state, I could feel it. 

"Oh, shut up. I was not."

"Hm." He smiled. "Didn't seem that way."

"I was just trying to rescue you from Pansy," I thinned my eyes, "She was all over you when I walked up."

"Rescue me?" He questioned, "I told you she'd be good for a snog." A part of my heart wilted. 

"If you're going to be foul, you can leave." I snapped, and he laughed quietly. 

"Foul?"

"Yes, foul." I turned my head towards him, ignoring the throbbing in my skull. "I don't want to hear about how much you loved kissing Pansy. It makes me nauseated." My tone came off a little more hurt than I'd intended for it to, and Draco paused, watching me with an expression I could only identify as confusion. Slowly, his lips turned up into a tiny smile. 

"Woodwick...are you jealous?" I scoffed like it was the most outrageous thing he'd ever said. 

"Are you insane?" I glared, "Of course not."

"Are you sure?" He shifted closer to me, his hands resting on the cot's mattress. I shivered. 

"Completely."

His eyes twinkled in a way that drove me insane. He didn't believe me at all. 

"If you say so," He shrugged, "I've just never seen someone leave a party that fast."

"I left because--" I started, but quickly stopped myself, swallowing the words back into my throat. "It doesn't matter. Can you please just go?"

"Wish I could," He shrugged again, "But I have direct orders from Madame Pomfrey to watch you while she's gone."

"I'm sure she'll be back soon," I turned away from him, crossing my arms over my chest, "Plus, I think having to hear your voice is damaging my brain more."

"Hell," Malfoy laughed, "Hitting your head made you ten times meaner, didn't it?"

"Maybe it just made me more honest." I snapped, "Go. Please."

Draco's smile faded quickly, and he readjusted his robes, frowning. 

"Fine." He lowered his voice. "Forgive me for trying to help you. I suppose I should have just left you there to bleed out." He turned away with a huff, and I kept my eyes on the bedside table next to me, shaking my head as his footsteps left the room. The door slammed back closed behind him, and I was left alone, my mind spinning even more nauseatingly. 

My head was really hurting now, but surprisingly, it wasn't even the thing that pained me the most. Because all I could think about was the new feeling in my chest, like someone had stabbed me with an invisible knife. 

It was a dull, spread out pain, but it was still there, and I hated it more than any real injury. 

Because I knew what it meant. 

And I didn't want to accept the fact that I was feeling it.


	10. Just the Head Injury

~two years before~

The dining hall was way too loud for someone recovering from a recent concussion, and it probably wasn't the best idea for me to be there. Actually, it wasn't a good idea for me to be there at all. I'd been advised not to go. 

But I was hungry--the kind of hungry you become when you haven't had any real food for what feels like forever--and sick of the bland infirmary slop I'd been given after a long week trapped with Madame Pomfrey, the smell of disinfectant and horribly flavored medicine, and no one to talk to.

So as the feast was laid out in front of me, I was all too eager to dive in. 

But there was only one problem. 

As I reached for the cherry pie sitting on the table a few feet away, my eyes caught onto something across the room. Or someone, more accurately, and the air fleeted from my lungs just like it had the week before. 

Draco's pale eyes locked onto mine like a laser from the Slytherin table, and I froze, hovering over the food mid-reach like an idiot. His expression was blank, his lips a straight line as he stared at me, and I almost waited for him to smile. To do something. Anything. But he didn't. 

And for a few seconds, it was like time just stopped. The sounds around me ceased to make noise. The people stopped moving, freezing like stone statues. My heart stopped beating. My limbs were motionless. 

For a moment, everything was still. Calm. Quiet. 

It was just me, and Draco. No one else was there. No one else mattered. 

And for that brief moment, I didn't want it to end. 

But I snapped out of it seconds later, shaking my head and tearing my eyes away from his. 

The way I was feeling wasn't real, I told myself. It was probably just the head injury. 

I furrowed my brows, grabbing a helping of sliced turkey and piling it onto my plate. 

Why was he even looking at me in the first place? Maybe because it was the first time I'd ventured outside the infirmary in days, or maybe because of the attention-drawing bandage taped to my forehead to hide the deep gash I'd given myself. 

It would leave a scar, for sure, but I thought it might look kind of cool.

A battle scar, I would later call it. Draco would say he liked it, too--that it made me unique, and that there was a funny story to go along with it. I didn't ever think it was funny, but he always did. 

That was later, though. This was then. 

I knew that he was still staring at me though the rest of the meal, but I refused to let myself look up. Part of me wanted to, sure. But I wouldn't allow myself to acknowledge it, much less act on it. So I kept my head down like it was stuck that way permanently. If he asked, I'd just blame it on the injury. Something about my neck being fused in a certain position now. 

It was time to head to class before I could blink, and suddenly I wasn't hungry anymore. Just nauseated. 

I kept my eyes focused on the floor as I stood from the table, hoping the crowd of students would hide me as I slipped out of the room. Maybe he wouldn't try to talk to me. Maybe he was still mad about what I'd said when he brought me to the infirmary. Maybe he would never speak to me again, or go back to talking how he used to. 

Maybe if he did, I wouldn't feel the way I did anymore. That might be nice. Then I wouldn't have to blame anything on my head injury. 

I bolted for the door before anyone could block my path, determined to escape without having to speak to anyone. Much less--

"Woodwick!" His voice cut through the crowd, and my eyes went wide with fear. At that point, whether I'd meant to or not, I started to run more than walk. It was more of an awkward jog, but once my feet were moving, I couldn't stop them. 

I pushed past people, who grunted with annoyance as I shoved by, but I ignored them, hiding the side of my face with the sleeve of my robe. 

But almost as soon as I'd raised my arm, I felt something wrap tightly around my wrist, and I yelped, being yanked backwards with a strong force. 

"Shh," Draco hushed me, rolling his eyes as I turned to face him. "Why are you always so dramatic?"

"I am not," I scoffed, suddenly noticing that Draco's hand was still clamped around my wrist. He noticed it too as my eyes flickered down, and with an awkward yank, I pulled away. "You startled me. That's all."

"Whatever," He shook his head, glancing up at my bandage. "Christ, Woodwick, you really did a number on yourself, didn't you."

"It's fine." I reached up, touching gingerly at the cloth, "I have a tiny concussion. A few stitches. Nothing serious."

"Thanks to me," He rolled his shoulders proudly, "You could say I saved your life."

"I wouldn't say that." I thinned my eyes, and he smirked.

"Well, I'm glad you're back."

The air caught in my windpipe, and I almost choked. 

"Oh, uh--you are?"

"Obviously." He said with a scoff, "Our project is due in two days. I didn't want to have to finish it all by myself." If I was honest, my heart dropped a little at his words, but I shook it off, forcing a smile.

"Yes--right." My nerves started to prickle with hidden embarrassment, "Right." I paused, chewing at my bottom lip and glancing up at his. 

I remembered kissing him the most clearly out of everything from that night. 

Sure, there was the mental picture of him making out with Pansy still tattooed in my mind like a horror movie playing on a loop. Sure, I remembered how many drinks I'd downed in such a short period of time. And sure, I remember how I'd felt when I left. 

Dizzy, humiliated, confused, nauseated--alive. 

I remembered all of that, too. 

But kissing him. How it felt. How it made me forget about everything else in my life. How nothing else mattered when I was touching him. When he was touching me. 

When it almost felt like he actually cared. 

That was what I remembered the most. Because how could I possibly forget?

"Hey, I'm sorry." I blurted suddenly, and Draco raised his eyebrows. "I was really rude to you that night...you know, after you found me."

"Rude?" He smiled, "You were acting exactly how you usually do."

"No, I'm serious," I shook my head, "I was an ass."

"Well, yes," He admitted, "But I figured you had a head injury. You didn't mean it."

"But that's the thing..." I muttered under my breath, "I did mean it." Draco furrowed his brows.

"What?"

"I did mean it." I repeated, meeting his eyes as a shiver danced up my spine. "What I said that night."

"Which part?" He crossed his arms, "You said lots of things."

"When I said I wanted you to leave. I couldn't stand you being there." Draco scoffed, looking offended.

"Why not?"

"Draco..." I started, my voice trailing off in a pleading tone. I just wanted him to understand without me having to say it. I wanted him to get it, even though I knew he wouldn't. I had a sneaking suspicion that he wouldn't be very in touch with his emotions, much less able to identify them in others. 

But I was so focused on trying not to say it, that I only noticed after a few moments of silence what I'd just called him. 

Draco. 

Not Malfoy.

Draco. 

I'd never addressed him by his first name before, and he noticed just as quickly as I did, his face instantly turning a color pale I didn't even know was possible for a human to achieve--without being dead, at least. 

"Malfoy," I blurted awkwardly, my face going as red as filling of the cherry pie I'd just eaten. "I--I meant Malfoy."

"Right." He looked away from me, his eyes darting around like he was trying to find a way to escape. My stomach did a painful twist, and I almost reached for his arm. But thank god I didn't. I can't imagine that it would have made things any less uncomfortable.

"I--I have to be going," He stepped to the side, shooting me a quick glance. "Uh, quidditch practice."

"Oh, yeah." I nodded, "Quidditch is a great game. Lots of fun." Great game? Lots of fun? I was cringing at myself before the words even finished leaving my mouth. 

"Right, yeah." Draco backed away further, hiding his hands in the pockets of his robe. "Well, I guess I'll see you around, then, Woodwick."

"Yeah, see you around."

He didn't smile before he turned his back to me. Didn't wave goodbye. Didn't meet my eyes again. And I'm not sure why I expected him to. 

Because I wasn't anything to Draco Malfoy. And I needed to be reminded of that before I forgot for too long. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I hadn't gotten a good night's sleep, but not because of the uncomfortably tight bandage wrapped around my head. It was because as soon as I'd drifted off, I'd had a dream. And not my normal kind of dream, where I was riding around on a broomstick and fell to my death or something. 

It was a new kind. One I'd never experienced before, and frankly, one that I didn't know how to handle. 

It started with me in the girl's lavatory, changing out of my robes and into my casual clothing. I had my shirt undone and hanging off the ends of my arms, my bra exposed as the cold air of the room prickled against my skin, making goosebumps skitter over my chest. 

I shivered, throwing the top to the floor and reaching for my sweater resting on the sink. But as soon as I moved for it, a hand came towards me out of nowhere, clamping down around my wrist and making me freeze. 

I sucked in a quick breath, my veins going ice cold as I glanced up, Malfoy's pale, sky-blue eyes meeting my gaze. 

"I've told you a million times," He muttered, a devilish smile on his lips as he pulled my wrist towards him, "You're not allowed to get undressed without me in the room."

"Well you're here now, aren't you?" I heard myself whisper, shocked at my own words, "Why don't you make the most of it?"

"Oh," He breathed, his other hand appearing at my hip and digging into my waist. I gasped. "I plan to." His hands were cold--like he was a corpse. But at the same time, they sent a warmth through my body that I couldn't describe. It was like I'd never been touched before, and his fingertips sent waves of shock through my nerves, waking me up from a lifelong slumber.

"Draco..." My bottom lip trembled, and he just shifted closer, his waist pressing against mine as he backed me into the sink. His hands snaked behind my back and to my ass, digging into my flesh with a tight squeeze and making me lightheaded. 

"Tell me to stop," He muttered, leaning forward and planting his lips against my neck. It was like fireworks were exploding through my nerves every time his mouth traced along my throat, leaving tiny kisses as he went. 

Every few seconds, he nipped lightly, and I moaned, my head leaning back towards the ceiling in pure bliss. I traced my eyesight along the lines in the stone as he moved lower to my exposed chest, my body trembling under his touch as his lips traced down my sternum. 

I felt him smile against my skin, "Tell me you don't want this."

"I do," I raised my hands, sliding them up his chest and hooking my arms around the back of his neck. "I want you."

"Which parts of me?" His voice was taunting, drawing me to insanity. 

"All of you."

I snapped awake suddenly as if some kind of alarm was going off, gasping for air and clutching my chest. Only in reality, my shirt was still on. And what was worse? There was no Draco. 

I was alone in the infirmary, dead silence surrounding me and only cold to wrap its icy arms around my body. 

The warmth from my dream was gone completely, and I was left with nothing, my arms feeling empty without being hooked around his neck. 

And after a moment, the only thing I felt was shame, sending a wave of disgusted nausea through my body. I slapped my hands over my face, groaning and pulling my knees to my chest, rocking back and forth like I'd gone insane. And maybe I had. 

I mean seriously, what was wrong with me? Why did I feel this way? I literally could not have picked a worse person, and I wished more than anything that I could have just flipped a switch and turned it off--made the feelings go away completely. 

Maybe there was a spell. Maybe there was a potion. Maybe there was something. 

There had to be something. 

Because how was I supposed to go on like I normally would, knowing that no amount of magic in the world could fix the way I felt for him? 

For stupid, Mudblood-hating Draco Malfoy, and his stupid, bloody-gorgeous face. 

But then again, maybe it was just the head injury. 

It would sure make things a lot easier if it was.


	11. Blood Like Mine

~two years before~

The potion was perfect, if I did say so myself--as clear as glass and filled to the brim in the tiny green vile we'd chosen, being rotated between my slender fingertips. 

"We did it," I huffed, almost in disbelief. "It's done."

"And it's perfect," Draco muttered, so quietly that it was like he was speaking only to himself, "Not that I would have expected anything less."

"Why, because you're the top of the class?" I raised my eyebrows to accompany my mocking tone, but Draco didn't seem to pick up on the cue. Instead, he furrowed his brows, looking away. 

"Clearly."

I frowned, disheartened for the millionth time in the past forty eight hours. Draco had been different in the last two days since I'd seen him in the dining hall. I say different, but it was more like he'd gone back to the way he used to be. Cold. Stuffy. Condescending.

He wasn't the same Draco I'd gotten to know for the past few weeks. 

And he definitely wasn't the Draco I'd kissed. 

He'd stopped joking around when we were together. Stopped smiling. Stopped saying my last name, even.

He avoided eye contact, kept as far away as possible when we were forced to spend time together, and tried not to speak unless I addressed him first. 

But it wasn't exactly the same as how it used to be, because unlike before, he still hadn't called me any names. There was no mention of the word "Mudblood". No speaking badly about my father. No complaining about having to associate with someone like me. Nothing. 

He was just...silent. 

Somehow, it was almost worse than when he was hurling insults. 

A moment of awkward silence followed his last response, and I cleared my throat. 

"Well, I'm proud of us," I set the vile down, watching the liquid move around inside its glass capsule, "Potions aren't really my strong suit."

Draco just made a quiet grunting noise in response, and my heart dropped a little. I hated that I wanted him to speak to me. 

I hated it, but it was true. And what was worse, I was actually starting to miss him. Imagine that. Me, missing Draco Malfoy. It was ridiculous--but nevertheless, I felt it. 

We handed the potion in a few class periods later, our professor's eyes going wide as she held it out in front of her face, turning the vile over and watching the liquid churn around itself. 

"Brilliant," She whispered, "It's perfectly clear." She smiled, looking over at Draco, who was standing a good distance away from my side. "Not that I'm surprised, Mr. Malfoy. You always impress."

"Thank you, professor." He muttered, his eyes focused on the ground. I furrowed my brows. 

That was strange. He loved to be praised. It was his favorite thing, really. Barely reacting to a compliment wasn't like him at all. 

"Amazing work," The professor continued, seeming to almost forget that I was standing there for a moment. But when she finally realized, she looked in my direction and thrusted her hands towards me. "Both of you."

"Thank you." We said in unison. I blushed. 

"Of course," She turned around, tucking the potion into a drawer of her deep, dark-wooded desk. "You two are free to go," She beamed, "I'm very impressed, again."

"Thank you," I repeated, and Malfoy just nodded solemnly, his hair flopping down over his eyes. He looked tired. Unkept. Kind of like he hadn't gotten much sleep in a while. Again, it wasn't like him to look less than perfect. 

We both turned to leave as the professor herded us from the room, stepping out into the empty, quiet hallway. It was lunch time, and I figured that everyone had made their way to the dining hall already, leaving me and Draco the only ones in the long passageway. I sighed, crossing my arms and turning to him with a weak smile. 

"Well," I dropped my shoulders, "I guess that's it." Draco just nodded, his eye still glued to the ground. I was silent for a bit before I spoke again. 

"I'm really glad we got partnered together, you know." I offered, stepping towards him, "It was definitely an eye-opening experience." My last few words were supposed to come off as more of a joke, but instead of laughing, Draco's lips twisted into a frown.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh no, I just meant that I'm glad I got to know you better," I tried, "Because--well, you know, before..."

"Before what?"

"We didn't exactly get along very well."

"And you think that's changed?" His tone shifted in the blink of an eye, and I stepped back, a dread-filled pit suddenly settling in my stomach. All of a sudden his voice was cold. Heartless. He sounded like a snake, and I just stared at him, eyes wide with confusion. 

"Well, I--I just thought that--"

"The project is finished," He cut me off, rolling his shoulders back and avoiding my eyes, "We don't have to pretend to tolerate each other anymore."

"Wha--" I was shaking my head now, my mind starting to spin to try and connect the dots--to understand what was happening. To make some sort of sense of why he was saying these things. 

My heart began to throb like it was bleeding as I frantically searched for solace in his eyes. Something--anything to grab onto to know that what he was saying wasn't really how he felt. 

Anything at all. But nothing presented itself, and I was left with a racing pulse, like someone was holding a wand up to my neck and digging it into my windpipe. 

"I wasn't pretending." The words left my tongue in a whisper, and Draco just looked me up and down. 

"Oh, please, Woodwick." The look in his eyes was one I hadn't seen in weeks. "Yes you were. You said it yourself, remember? Back in the infirmary."

"No," I reached forward instinctively, and his face twisted into a snarl. I recoiled with another strong pang stabbing me in the heart. "No, Draco, that's not what I--"

"Don't call me that," He backed away, glancing around suddenly like someone was watching him. His face was paler than usual, I noticed--a sickly color, almost. And as he backed into the light of one of the windows, I could suddenly see the true exhaustion in his complexion, dark, purply circles settled under his eyes and reddened white around his irises. 

He continued to step backward, his footsteps echoing through the halls before he paused, his pupils seeming to cloud over with a darkness that instantly made me shiver. 

"What are you doing?" I shook my head, "Why are you saying these things?" He just scoffed. 

"Did you really think that I would associate myself with someone with blood like yours?"

Blood like mine. 

The words didn't hit me for a moment. 

Sometimes that happens, you know? When you bang your shin against the side of a table, or you catch your finger in a door, the pain doesn't register immediately. 

For a split second, everything is numb. Calm. Like the eye of a hurricane, or the sun before a storm. 

But all of a sudden, you feel it. You feel it like it's the worst pain you've ever experienced. And you remember the feeling even long after it should have faded. 

So when Draco's words processed in my mind, I felt as though someone had sucked every ounce of life from my veins. Every ounce of happiness in my body. Every beat of my heart. Every thought in my mind. 

But I didn't cry. I couldn't have even if I wanted to. Because suddenly, I didn't remember how. 

My voice was an empty, breathless whisper as I responded, my bottom lip trembling like a leaf. 

"Blood like mine?"

"Don't forget who you are, Woodwick." He looked me up and down, his expression impossible to place. 

But for a second, I almost thought I saw something, hidden like a deep secret behind his pale blue irises. Something...off. It was just a flicker, but it was there. 

A second later, though, he blinked, and it was gone just as quickly as it had appeared. I wondered if I would ever see it again. 

His voice was like gravel, crackling under the wheels of a carriage as he spoke again. Low. Tired. Dead. 

"I don't want to have to remind you."


	12. You Snake

~two years before~

The professor was speaking. She had been for a while. 

But I didn't hear a single word of it. 

Her mouth was moving, but instead of listening to her voice, I just stared, my face blank and expressionless. The only noise processing in my mind was a high pitched ringing, consuming my entire body in a painful buzz and making my muscles tense with discomfort. 

The noise had appeared a few days before, after Draco had walked away, leaving me alone with my thoughts in the long, empty hallway. Though the hallway wasn't the only thing that was empty anymore.

As soon as he'd disappeared around the corner, I felt myself snap. A strong, entire body shiver ran up my spine, and I trembled like a leaf, my limbs going numb and weak all at once. 

My knees buckled a moment later, and unlike last time--when Draco had been there to catch me--my figure collapsed to the ground, as if I'd never been taught to stand. 

Blood like yours. Blood like yours. Blood like yours. 

The sound of his words refused to relent, and as they played in my mind like a broken record, I finally felt the first tear drip onto my cheek. 

And once the sobs had started, it was almost impossible to get them to stop. 

I'm not sure how long I laid there. Maybe ten minutes. Maybe thirty. But I had nothing left in me to convince myself to stand. 

What was the point? Where would I go? Who would I run to?

The answer? No one. I had no one, and I was no one to everyone. I meant just as little to them as they meant to me, and as I sobbed on the ground, my arms wrapped around myself to try and find some sort of comfort, I found none. 

Just an all consuming feeling of deep, bottomless loneliness. And I was afraid that without Draco--who I wanted to hate more than anything, but somehow still didn't--the feeling would never fade away. 

"Now that I have the daily announcements out of the way," The professor's voice suddenly jolted me from my daydream--or more like nightmare--and I lifted my head from resting in the palm of my hand. She sighed, gripping the edge of her desk as if she was about to fall over. "I have to speak to you all about a much more serious topic."

My classmates looked between each other with wide eyes, but all I could think about was Draco, sitting a few rows behind me and probably pretending that I didn't exist. I wished that I could do the same. 

"I discovered something extremely alarming last night that I believe needs to be brought to your attention." She shook her head solemnly, "A potion seems to have gone missing from my stores," She paused on the last words, her eyes thinning over the classroom. "And it just so happens to be one of the ones that you all turned in a few days ago."

The class was dead silent, looking between each table with expressions of confusion and intrigue. But all I could feel was a sudden pit settling in my stomach, making the hair on the back of my neck stand up straight. Something here was very wrong. 

"I find it curious," She continued, stepping out from behind her desk and slinking towards the front row of students. "That only a few days after it was turned in to me, it disappears."

Again, dead silence was returned from my classmates, as well as from me, who was now starting to feel more and more nauseated by the second. Because there was only one question on my mind, begging to be answered. 

Which potion had been stolen?

"So," She placed her hands on a desk, peering down at the two students sitting there. "Does anyone happen to have anything that they would like to tell me?"

Nothing came in response, and my pulse began to race, faster and faster until suddenly, my hand shot up. The professor's eyes landed on me quicker than anyone's ever had.

"Yes, Ms. Woodwick?"

"I'm sorry. I don't know anything about it going missing, Professor," My voice was threatening to quiver, "But which potion was it, exactly?"

She sighed, looking me up and down before crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back.

"I'm afraid it was yours, Ms. Woodwick," She muttered, "Well, yours and Mr. Malfoy's."

Instantly, my heart dropped, and not just because she mentioned Draco's name--though that certainly did play a factor in it. 

I felt completely gutted as the reality processed further, my heart sinking in my chest like an anchor. We'd worked on that potion for weeks, and been so proud of it in the end. Or at least I had been. 

And I hated to admit it, but that potion reminded me of a few memories that I wasn't ready to let go of yet. Now that it was missing, I somehow feared that the experience would slip away with it. 

But soon after the initial shock, all I could think about was what would happen if that potion fell into the wrong hands. I imaged all the ways it could be used against people--innocent people who never saw it coming. It could be utterly disastrous, and I had a horrible feeling that it would be. 

Who would ever steal something from the professor's desk, anyway? Who would even know where to look?

And that was when I realized. 

It had to be someone who knew where she'd put it that day. Who'd been in the room with me when she'd tucked it away in that desk drawer. And there was only one person that could be. 

Draco. 

I whipped around in my chair before I even had the chance to think about it, my eyes wide with shock and anger. And as soon as they landed on him, I only felt that fury grow ten times stronger. Because he had the audacity to pretend that he was innocent. 

The look on his face was one that I wanted to punch right off. His eyes were focused on the front of the room as if he had absolutely nothing to hide, his spine straight and his lips curled up in a faint smile. He looked as if he didn't have a care in the world, and I gripped the back of my chair tightly, imagining that I was digging my nails into the palm of his hand. 

"I would like for the two of you to stay after class," The professor's voice brought me back to reality, and I spun around in my seat, trying not to let smoke pour out of my ears. "I need to ask you both a few questions."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I don't want to accuse either of you of anything." She kept her voice low and calm, but I could tell that underneath the mask, she was fuming. Maybe just as much as me. 

I could barely contain it--the urge to lunge at Malfoy and land a punch straight to his perfect little face. But I kept myself in control, instead biting down on the inside of my cheek until it bled. 

"But I can't help but wonder, since the two of you were the only ones to see me put the potion into the desk drawer, if--"

"I didn't take it, Professor." I shook my head, "I would never. I swear on everything I have. Brew up another batch of the potion and use it on me if you have to--"

"Ms. Woodwick," She stopped me, holding up her hands, "You are not on trail here. If you say that you're not responsible, then I believe you."

"Thank you." I nodded, stepping back and crossing my arms over my chest. I could only hope that my partner would tell the truth that we both knew. There was no denying it. He couldn't possibly talk his way out of this. But then again, this was Draco Malfoy. There was always some sort of loophole in the school's rulebook for him. 

"And you, Mr. Malfoy?" The professor's attention turned on him, who was standing a good ways away from me, his eyes on the ground and actively avoiding mine. 

"I didn't steal it." He muttered. Liar. 

"And you're sure?" She stepped towards him, and he finally looked up, frowning.

"Yes, I'm sure. I wouldn't have had time to, anyway. I've been busy for the last few days." He paused, sticking his hands into his robe pockets, "Quidditch training."

"And I suppose your team captain would be willing to back up your story?" 

"Yes."

The professor paused, eyeing the two of you though her wide rimmed glasses before sighing and removing them from the crooked bridge of her nose. 

"Fine." She muttered, moving back to her desk and slumping down in the deep seated chair. "If neither of you have anything for me, you're free to go."

I wanted to tell her more. I wanted to scream to the entire world that he was lying--that there was no way in hell that it wasn't him. Who else could it have possibly been?

But instead, I held my tongue, thanking her once more before turning on my heels and stomping to the door. I stepped out into the hallway with a feeling of rage that I'd never experienced before. Because the only thing I hated more than stuck up, daddy's boys who'd had everything handed to them for their entire lives, were liars.

Speaking of the devil, I heard Draco step out of the room behind me, his footsteps slow and heavy. And as soon as the door swung closed, leaving the two of us alone once more, I snapped. 

"You snake," I whipped around, glaring with daggers for my eyes as I met his. Again, he played dumb.

"Excuse me?"

"You're disgusting, Malfoy." I lowered my voice, "Lying like that."

"I didn't lie," He snapped back, "I didn't steal a damn thing."

"Oh, so you expect me to believe that a random person just happened to know exactly where she hid the potion?"

"Yes, because that's what happened."

"I can't believe you," I scoffed, shaking my head, "We spent weeks on that."

"Bloody hell, Woodwick, I didn't steal it, alright!?"

"There's no possible way that you didn't!" I raised my voice to match his.

"I didn't!"

"Then who the fuck did!?"

Draco turned away with a long, exasperated sigh, muttering under his breath. 

"I have no idea."

"Well you need to figure something out," I hissed, stepping towards him and making him flinch. Usually I would have been offended. But now, I was satisfied. "Quick. Or I'm going to find out what you did, and I'm turning you in."

Draco said nothing else as I shoved past him, jabbing him in the shoulder with all my strength and making him stumble backwards. But luckily for him, he stayed quiet, saying nothing as I stormed away, my fists clenched and ready to crash into his nose. 

God, I wanted to kill him. Badly. 

I'd never met someone that sparked such anger in my heart. Such unfiltered, uncontrollable fury. Someone that made me want to scream, and cry, and explode, all at the same time. 

But underneath all of that, what what made me the most furious of all, was that even after all of that, 

I still couldn't seem to hate him.


	13. The Ugly Truth

~two years before~

My drink tasted weird. 

Not bad, necessarily.

Just, weird. 

Maybe the punch was expired or something. Maybe someone had left it out of the refrigerator for too long. Maybe it was the metal of the cup making it taste more sharp than usual. 

But it wasn't a taste that kept me from wanting to drink it, just something different than usual. Not that it really mattered. 

I shrugged it off, setting my glass back down and resting my elbows on the table.

"Cedric already asked Cho," A girl a few seats down from me grumbled, "I knew he would, but still. It's annoying."

"Bloody hell, he's gorgeous." Another girl across the table chimed in, "Good for Cho. I would never have a chance with him, anyway."

"Yeah, I guess." The first girl continued to mutter, "Good for her."

"Cassia," A girl across from me said my name, drawing my attention to her pale, smiling face. I knew her name well. Looney--no, Luna Lovegood. I raised my eyebrows, acknowledging her. "Have you been asked to the Yule Ball yet?"

"Oh," I shook my head, "No, I haven't."

"Really?" Her voice was light and breathy, and every word she spoke sounded like it was supposed to be in some sort of poem. "I'm surprised." I tilted my head. 

"Why's that?"

"Because Draco is so clearly in love with you, of course." She said it as if it was nothing, and immediately, everyone sitting around us at the table turned their heads towards her, their eyebrows furrowed with surprise and confusion. My face went red as their gazes all settled on me, their eyes prodding like spears. 

"No," I shook my head, waving her away, "No, he's not."

"Draco?" Another girl chimed in, "Draco Malfoy?"

"Yes." Luna nodded, smiling towards me.

"You can't possibly mean Draco Malfoy," The girl laughed, "At least not the Draco Malfoy I know."

"That's exactly who I mean," Luna continued innocently, and I looked down at my hands in my lap, my cheeks red with embarrassment. 

"Luna, you've got it wrong, I promise you." I shook my head, "I can tell you confidently that he is not in love with me."

"I wouldn't be so sure," She shrugged weakly, her mane of long blonde hair cascading over her shoulders. "His eyes certainly light up when he looks at you."

"That doesn't mean--"

"And he gets an expression on his face like he's looking at the prettiest sight he's ever seen."

"Luna," I stopped her, raising my hands, "I promise you. He's not."

"I have to agree with Cass," The other girl interjected again, "I'd believe that I suddenly sprouted wings before I'd believe that Draco Malfoy was in love with anyone. Much less someone who isn't a pureblood Slytherin." She paused, shooting me an awkward look, "No offense, Cassia."

I just nodded in response, suddenly feeling like if I opened my mouth I might not be able to stay civil. I crossed my arms, looking back down at my lap and biting my bottom lip, counting down the minutes until I'd be able to leave the table. Time couldn't seem to move fast enough as I sat there, listening to the rest of my table gossip about boys and other things I could care less about. 

I stayed completely silent for the rest of the meal, a weird feeling coursing through my body. 

I couldn't place it, exactly. It wasn't a bad feeling, just one that made me slightly unsettled. Suddenly, I felt strangely vulnerable, like I wasn't in control of my own thoughts anymore. And as I waited for the time to come when I could get up and leave, the more and more uncomfortable I became. 

It was so bad by the time we finally stood up that instead of walking towards the door, I ran. 

I didn't know what had gotten into me, but I knew without a doubt that I needed to get out of that room, and quick. 

I reached the doorway in record time, rushing into the hall and glancing around for the quickest way back to my dorm. My path in mind, I stepped forward to leave, feeling glad to finally be away from other people and all of their annoyingly intrusive opinions. 

But just as I'd lifted my foot from the ground, I heard it. 

"Cassia! Cassia, wait!"

My name, being called from behind me. And as the sound reverberated through the hall in a sickening echo, my stomach dropped. 

Because immediately, I recognized the voice speaking to me, and it certainly wasn't one that I enjoyed listening to. 

Pansy's face met my gaze as I turned around, and I had to fight myself not to let my eyes roll. She was smiling--in a way that made me instantly annoyed--and her arms were crossed over her chest, her head tilting slightly to the side.

"Cassia," She repeated, "How are you?"

"A bit annoyed," I heard myself say, and I furrowed my brows, surprised at my own tongue.

"Oh, really?" She stepped towards me, "And why's that?"

"I don't particularly want to be speaking to you right now." I slipped again, and I nearly slapped my hand over my mouth. What was wrong with me? Why was I saying these things? I mean, they were true. But normally, I would never say any of it to her face. 

"Oh," She shook her head, flashing an expression of fake innocence, "I'm so sorry to be bothering you."

I just glared. 

"I just have something that I wanted to ask you." She continued, smiling wider, "It'll be quick, I promise."

I paused, considering it. But I supposed that no matter what I said, she was going to ask me anyway. 

"Alright."

"I just wanted to know," She swayed closer, "You know, since you seemed so...bothered at the party a few weeks ago when I kissed Draco..."

At the mention of his name, my heart felt like it had dropped through the ground. No way she was about to ask me about this. No way...

"I was curious about your feelings for him," She batted her eyelashes, "So...what are they exactly?"

My tongue was suddenly as dry as the Sahara Desert, my nerves standing so on edge that I thought I might explode. I glanced around, panicking as the words suddenly began to form on my tongue, and for some reason, I couldn't stop them. 

It was like I'd lost all control of my mouth and brain, and I couldn't do anything at all as my lips formed the syllables. I just widened my eyes in horror as the words were spoken into existence, one by one, each worse than the last.

"I want to be with him." I heard myself whisper, "Desperately."

Pansy just stood in front of me, beaming and nodding slowly as she twisted a piece of hair around her fingertip. I, on the other hand, was completely shocked--frozen in utter disbelief at the words I'd just allowed to slip from my tongue. And what was worse, I didn't want to believe that they were the truth. 

"Aw, you see, I thought so." She finally laughed, turning over her shoulder. "Didn't I tell you, Draco?"

That was when I felt my heart stop.

She slid to the side, giggling as she revealed Draco's figure standing frozen behind her, his eyes locking on mine before I could even think to run away. And as they did, I suddenly felt like I was about to faint. 

Maybe faint, maybe throw up, maybe pitch myself off the astronomy tower--one of the three. It did't matter which.

The bottom line was that I had never wanted to die more in my entire life. 

"See, I told you she was in love with you," She moved closer to him, nudging him in the shoulder. But he didn't move. Not at all. It was like he was a statue, refusing to flinch as I gaped at him, my bottom lip beginning to tremble. "And to think, you didn't believe me. Good thing we went with my plan, huh?"

Again, Draco stayed silent, his expression completely unreadable. And it was driving me insane. 

"Thank god for that potion," Pansy continued, "If not for it we might not have gotten such a clear answer."

Pang. I felt as if her words had physically stabbed me in my chest, and I stepped back, nearly losing my footing. 

"Potion?" I breathed, my eyes wide and horrified as the reality of what had just happened set in. 

The drink. The weird taste. The unsettling feeling.

Suddenly, I couldn't breathe. 

"I have to thank you for creating something so useful," Pansy moved back towards me, and I flinched away, "It's really come in handy these past few days."

My heart lurched like it was being weighed down by an anvil in my chest, and all I could do was stare blankly towards the two of them, sinking helplessly into the spinning of my own mind. 

"I--I don't understand how--" I stuttered, staring past her and looking straight into Draco's eyes. Again, his face was blank, but deep in his irises, I caught onto something. It was something other than emptiness, and I hooked onto it before he could hide it away. "How could you?"

He just stared back, as if he had absolutely nothing to say to defend himself, and I let out a pained huff. 

"You lied to me." I breathed, and Draco looked down at the ground.

"Obviously he did." Pansy scoffed, "You think he was going to tell you who stole the potion? He's no snitch."

I didn't respond. I had absolutely nothing left to say. And I don't even think I could have said anything more if I'd wanted to. 

Because I was empty. Dead. Completely drained of everything in me and left with a husk of myself that I didn't recognize.

And all I could think about as I stood there, completely helpless and exposed, was Draco, standing in front of me with his eyes on the ground. 

But I didn't want to look at him anymore. I couldn't bear it. 

I shook my head, silencing the agony-filled choke that was bubbling up in my throat and whipping away from both of them as quickly as possible. I put my hand over my mouth as I stepped away, my legs feeling numb underneath me and getting weaker and weaker with each step. 

My chest was tight, constricting the air that entered my lungs, and I began to gasp for breath, my head spinning with pain and confusion. 

And before long, there were hot, stinging tears welling in my eyes, dripping onto my cheeks in a slow rhythm at first. But they quickly sped up, increasing into a flooding river down my face, reddening my cheeks as a loud sob cracked from my throat. 

Maybe Draco watched me leave. 

Maybe he didn't. 

Maybe Pansy pointed and laughed as I hurried away. Maybe they talked about how pathetic I was. Maybe they laughed about how crazy I was to ever think that I had a chance with him. 

Maybe they called me a dirty Mudblood. 

Maybe they cursed my name, and imitated my facial expression from when I'd said those words. 

I want to be with him, desperately. I want to be with him, desperately. I want to be with him, desperately.

And maybe, just maybe, he'd felt a pang of guilt when he thought about me, and about what he'd done. 

Maybe he remembered that time at the party, when our lips had touched for those few moments. When my hand had rested against his chest, and on the back of his neck. When his had combed through my hair, and pulled me towards him, and made me feel more alive than anyone ever had. 

Maybe he remembered those things as well as I did. 

But I had a horrible, sickening feeling, that it meant far more to me than it ever would to him. 

Because I meant absolutely nothing to Draco Malfoy.

And that was the cold, ugly, painful truth that I now knew better than anyone else.


	14. Don't You Want Me To?

~two years before~

A strong, crisp chill blew into the open hallway and whipped through my hair, fanning loose strands in front of my face and making me groan. And though I wished that I had a hair tie on me, I wasn't really annoyed. 

I loved this kind of weather, and even more, this time of year. 

Christmas was coming up faster than I could prepare for it, and appropriately, a thick blanket of snow had fallen over the grounds, coating my surroundings in a calming blizzard of icy blue and white. 

I rubbed my gloved hands together, blowing out a quick exhale and watching my breath turn to smoke before my eyes. My robes struggled to keep me warm, resulting in the chattering of my teeth, but I wrapped them tighter around my figure anyway, being thankful for the wooly scarf hanging around my neck. 

But it didn't really matter, because moments later I ditched the chill of the open hallway, ducking inside and leaving the snowy background behind me. I quivered from the last aftershocks of the cold, letting the warmth of the castle overtake me and brushing the snow away that had settled on the top of my head and shoulders. 

Unraveling my scarf and pulling my gloves off my fingertips, I tucked them into the deep pockets of my robe, fixing my hair and moving down the hall. I was finished with classes for the day, and after spending the afternoon walking around the icy lakes and ponds of the grounds, I was in need of a warm cup of tea, and maybe even a nap. 

Especially since I'd finally started to be able to sleep well again without having nightmares every time I closed my eyes. 

They weren't the typical type of nightmares, really. But there were just as scarring as any other, haunting me even when I was awake. 

And each of them had one thing in common. One thing I wished that I could forget about more than anything. 

Draco. 

It was always the same scene. Me, standing in front of him with the same feeling in my chest that I'd felt that day. The day that I'd confessed how I felt--unwillingly, I might add. 

It had been almost two months now, and I still couldn't forget about that feeling, or that day. That deep, unending pain that coursed through every cell in my body then had refused to relent for weeks after the event had occurred, and even now, when I swore to myself that I would never let myself feel anything like that again, its aftershocks were still present, and particularly traumatizing. 

I felt it every time I saw him in the hallways, walking towards me with his usual, confident stride. Sometimes he would meet my eyes. Sometimes he wouldn't. But it was like we were complete strangers again. Not even enemies. Just...strangers. 

Somehow, it was worse than anything else. 

I felt it every time I walked into potions class, and had to see him sitting with Pansy with their bodies way too close together. I felt it when she would lean towards him, and make sure that I was watching as she whispered something into his ear, lingering there for far too long and giggling softly. 

I felt it when she would reach forward and touch his arm, or his leg, or his hair, brushing it out of his eyes like he couldn't do it himself. 

I felt it when I would run to the bathroom, tears streaked down my face and vomit bubbling up in my throat. I felt it when I would rush into the stall, my body wracked with sobs and gags as I emptied my stomach into the toilet, gripping the white seat like I was about to fall through the floor. 

I felt it when I would lie in bed at night, staring up at the ceiling and praying for my body to stay awake so that I wouldn't have to see his face in my dreams. 

Because sometimes, instead of the nightmare being about that day, they were of the party. 

The night when he'd kissed me. When I'd kissed him back. That night when I'd actually thought that he might care. 

And waking up from those and realizing that it was all a dream, hurt far more than the bad ones did. Because you always want to wake up from a nightmare. You never want to wake up from a dream that isn't a reality. 

But thankfully, I didn't have them as much anymore. It had gone from every night to maybe once a week, which was still a lot for a person to dream of the same person, but a big improvement. At least now I got a few full nights of uninterrupted, not-traumatizing sleep. Hopefully, it would just continue to get better.

I sighed, rubbing my arms from over my robe to try and warm myself up a little more. The chill from outside was still lingering in the form of relentless goosebumps on my skin, and I turned another corner, thankful that the deeper I ventured into the castle, the more the coldness dissipated. 

Another turn, and it got even better, to the point where my teeth finally stopped chattering and making my head ache annoyingly. 

One more turn, and I entered the hallway towards the Ravenclaw dormitory, noticing that I was the only person occupying the long, window lined space. Light streamed in through the clear glass, and outside, I could see thick piles of snow building up around the building's walls, covering the bottoms of the glass in a blanket of ice and snowfall. 

My footsteps echoed alone as I walked forward, and I focused on the way my boots clicked on the stone, counting the beats and eyeing the pattern in the rocks under my feet. But suddenly, the steady rhythm of my own steps were thrown off as someone else's joined in from far away. 

Someone was headed down the corridor in the opposite direction of me, and I tucked my hands into my robe, glancing up to see who it was. I would have paid it no attention, but this particular person's stride sounded so determined. So meaningful. Like every step they took had a specific purpose. Wherever they were going seemed to be somewhere very important. 

I raised my eyes, expecting to see someone like Professor Snape, who always seemed to walk as if he was late for something. 

But whatever I was expecting to see was absolutely not what I got. 

Immediately, I recognized the way the person's feet moved. The way they stepped. The rhythm of their footsteps. I recognized the robes, the dark green shade on the inside catching my eye. I recognized his hands, balled into fists by his sides and covered in shiny, silver rings. I recognized that white blonde hair that would catch my attention even in a crowd of millions. 

And I recognized his eyes, just like always, pale and gray and as paralyzing as ever, trapping me in their path before I could escape them. 

Draco strode towards me, his face pointed towards the ground as he messed with the sleeve of his robe and the ring on his middle finger. But before long, he glanced up carelessly, and that was when he saw me standing there, my mouth hanging open like an idiot. 

That was when our eyes met, like magnets coming back together instinctually. And as soon as they'd locked onto each other for the first time in months, both of us froze. 

It was almost like the world stopped spinning for a moment. Everything just went quiet. Still. 

The air hung as if it was afraid to move, just like I was, and I was almost sure that the clock on the wall forgot to tick as the seconds dragged on like eternities. 

The only thing in movement was the now life-threatening slamming of my heart, which I feared that he could hear even from all the way down the corridor. 

But Draco was the first to move, straightening his spine and clearing his throat, his facial expression a mix of a million different things. Whatever it was, I couldn't place it. 

And then he started walking. 

Taking steps. Towards me. 

And in a split second, about a million different courses of action popped into my mind. But a few ideas stood out. 

One, I could punch him. I could knock him straight in the nose and scream at him for what he did to me. That would be fun, for sure. But somehow, I figured that that wouldn't be the most productive plan of action. 

Two, I could run. It would be a few long seconds before he got close enough to talk to me. I could bolt in the other direction and never have to speak a single word to him. Though I felt like running away might result in more embarrassment than actually saying something to his face. 

So, in the end, I went with option number three: stay frozen like an idiot until he reached me and then eventually be forced to face him. 

Did I pick that option because I couldn't get my legs to move? Maybe. But regardless, I picked it. 

He stopped a few feet in front of me, his eyes scanning up and down my face like he was tying to remember what it was like to look at me. And it was almost painful, noticing the way it seemed like he'd forgotten. 

He shifted his weight from one foot to another, his expression still unreadable as he cleared his throat once more. 

"Woodwick," He addressed me, his voice softer then normal--not that I'd heard it in months--and my heart lurched, "It's been a while."

"Yeah," I said, my voice fighting to keep from quivering. "It has been." He paused, the tiniest of smiles forming on his lips. 

"How have you been?"

How had I been? God, if only he knew how I'd really been. 

Depressed. Lonely. Anxious. Jealous. Miserable. Stressed. Sick. The list could go on for a while. 

For the past few weeks I'd been the worst I'd ever been, really. 

But of course, that's not what I told him. 

"Brilliant." I nodded, "Things are great."

"I'm glad." He stepped closer, and my heart lurched again. I backed up a hair, determined to keep a good amount of distance between us. 

"And you?" I crossed my arms.

"Fine." He raised his eyebrows, sighing, "But I don't like the holidays."

"Don't like the holidays?" I questioned, scoffing, "They're the best time of year." His lips straightened, something darker flickering behind his eyes. 

"For some."

Immediately, I felt guilty. Of course he didn't like the holidays. I knew who his father was. I couldn't imagine that going home to visit him was a very joy-filled experience. 

But I just nodded in response to his words, looking down at the floor and playing with the sleeve of my robe. 

"You must love the holidays, though," He continued, "You get to go home and see--"

"Why are you talking to me?" I blurted out, finally looking back up and shaking my head.

I hadn't planned to ask the question. But all of a sudden, I'd just felt the need to ask it. To finally get some answers. 

Maybe he wouldn't answer me. But at least I tried. 

"What?" He just furrowed his brows, looking confused. 

"Why are you talking to me?" I repeated, "After all this time. Why now?" For once, it looked like I'd thrown him off. He actually didn't seem to know how to respond. It was a miracle. Draco Malfoy was at a loss for words. 

"I--" 

"You humiliated me." I cut him off again, thinning my eyes, "You know that?"

"Woodwick--"

"What did I ever do to you, Draco?" I stepped towards him, surprising even myself, and he looked me up and down with a confused expression. "What made you hate me so much?"

"I--I don't--"

"What you did was disgusting," I huffed, my throat starting to feel squeezed. Oh no. I was not about to cry. Not here, in front of him. "I don't understand how you could do that to someone. I just don't--"

"I didn't want to," He interjected, "But Pansy was relentless, and she said that--"

"I don't care what she said!" I raised my voice, hot tears threatening to well in the corners of my eyes. I blinked them away to the best of my ability, pausing and trying to collect myself. 

"You could have just left me alone." I choked out, turning my face away. "You didn't have to--"

"I'm sorry." He blurted, and I stopped, my pulse freezing. Slowly, I looked back to him. 

"You're..."

"Sorry." He repeated, stepping towards me once more. This time, I didn't flinch away. "I'm sorry."

I'm sorry. 

The words didn't sound right coming from his mouth, and I found myself struggling to believe them. 

"Don't lie to me, Draco." I breathed.

"No, I am." Another step. He was close now. "I'm sorry." The tears were begging now--desperate to fall down my face like a busted river dam, but I fought to keep them back, my bottom lip trembling. 

"How can you be sorry?" I choked, "You're with Pansy."

"What? No." He shook his head, "No, I'm not."

"You're not?" I thinned my eyes, scoffing, "She's all over you."

"I know," He laughed to himself, "That's not necessarily something I asked for." I smiled weakly in response, a tiny bit of my anger melting away. But icebergs don't turn back to water in one day. 

"Fine, so you're not with Pansy."

"No, I'm not."

"That still doesn't help." 

To my surprise, something in Draco's face seemed to fall, and in response, a feeling flickered in my chest. One that I hadn't felt in weeks.

"What will, then?" 

I paused, furrowing my brows at his words. 

"What?"

"What will help?" He repeated, "What can I do?"

What will help? 

His words didn't make sense. Not at all. Because there was no way he meant what I thought he did. I had to be hearing him wrong. I shook my head. 

"Help what?"

Draco paused, looking suddenly uncomfortable. That was rare. He took in a deep breath, exhaling in a long sigh. 

"I don't know why," He rubbed the back of his head, "But I--I miss being around you, Woodwick." My heart lurched for what seemed like the millionth time. I would have been happy to hear it if it wasn't preceded by such kind words. I scoffed, shaking my head again. 

"You don't know why? Thanks."

"No, I just mean that I don't usually--" He paused, "Get close to people. That's all."

"You sure get awfully close to Pansy," I offered a weak smile, and he huffed. 

"Yeah, I guess I do."

We were both quiet for a moment before he spoke again. 

"I do, though. I miss being around you." I tried to keep my breathing steady, but as he continued to speak, my pulse only raced faster and faster. 

"That doesn't make any sense."

"Why not?"

"Why not?" I scoffed, "You told me that we didn't have to pretend to tolerate each other anymore. Don't you remember?" He reached up to the back of his neck, rubbing at his muscles and sighing to himself. 

"Woodwick..."

"No, you can't just take that back. Why did you say it if you didn't mean it?"

"I was scared." He blurted, and I rolled my eyes. 

"Scared? Scared of what?"

"Of how I felt." He muttered awkwardly, and I stopped, my heart skipping a beat. 

"...How you felt?"

"Yes."

My mind was spinning out of control, and if there had been a place to sit down, I would have used it. But there was none, so I just rubbed at my temples, trying to wrap my head around what he was telling me. 

"And...how did you feel?"

"Confused." He replied shortly, and I nodded, still just as lost as before. "But the bottom line is," He shook his head, "That I did miss being around you."

We were quiet for another long moment before I gulped, laughing nervously. 

"Well, what do you miss? That might help." He smiled--that same smile that I would never ever tire of seeing, and wet his lips. 

"I miss the way you roll your eyes when you don't like something I say," He started, looking down at the ground with a sheepish grin, "And I miss how easy it is to make you laugh." My heart was slamming. 

"Go on."

"I miss the way your eyes dart around when you're nervous. You get this look on your face like you've seen a ghost or something." 

I smirked, unable to keep it back anymore.

"And I miss the way you smile," His voice lowered softly, his eyes drifting up to meet mine, "And speak. And move."

Suddenly, I'd forgotten how to breathe. Draco stepped closer towards me, and again, I didn't back away. 

"I don't know how you did it," He spoke, "A few months ago, I hated you." Another step, and I was forced to move towards the wall, unless I wanted to slam into his chest. And part of me definitely did. 

"And what?" I breathed, "Now you don't?" A smiled crossed his lips again, and I felt my back connect with the stony surface. 

"Definitely not."

Another step, and he was on me, his figure looming over mine and his face only inches away. I was staring directly into his gray eyes now, and was completely frozen in place, having only been this close to him once before. 

And as I blinked up at him, I couldn't help but wonder if the same thing was about to happen again. 

"What are you doing?" I breathed, feeling more terrified--and alive--than I had in months. His response was whispered, making me shiver. 

"What do you think I'm doing?"

"I think you're about to kiss me." I heard myself whisper, and he smirked. 

"Don't you want me to?" 

My lips refused to move, even though I wanted them to. Desperately. 

"Woodwick?"

"Yes."

Before I could blink, his hand was raised, and resting on my cheek so lightly that it was like he though I was made of glass--like if he touched me too roughly I would shatter into a million pieces. And maybe I would have. 

His hand was cold, like ice, but also warm at the same time, and I found myself nuzzling towards it, feeling his thumb trace lightly over my skin.

I could feel his pulse through his palm, beating steadily but quickly increasing in rhythm as his face grew closer and closer to mine, our lips only centimeters apart. 

"Tell me to stop," He muttered, "I won't do it if you don't want me to."

"Don't stop," I lifted my hand, resting it at the back of his neck and letting a disbelieving smile creep across my face. I couldn't process what was happening. "Don't ever stop."

I yanked him towards me, our lips slamming together like we'd been apart for a whole lifetime. And immediately, it was like I'd been kissing him forever. 

We melted into each other like we'd done it a million times before, my hands roaming through his soft hair and across his chest. He sucked in a deep breath through his nose as he moved his fingers first through my scalp and then back to the sides of my face, cupping my cheeks in his palms and drawing me closer to him. 

The kiss deepened as quickly as it had begun, his tongue meeting mine with a low hum from the back of his throat and sending another strong shiver through my body. Draco pulled back slightly, his breathing heavy and huffed. 

"You're shivering," He mumbled, and I nodded, tracing my hand along his cheek. Everything about him was so perfect. So smooth and flawless that it was like his skin was carved from marble. 

"I'm fine," My lips ghosted against his once more, and I felt him smile. "Don't worry." Draco's hands were still cupping my face, and he tilted my chin up towards him, staring straight into my eyes. 

"If you say so, Woodwick." He leaned forward again, placing his lips against mine in the softest of kisses before pulling away again and taking his hands with him.

He stepped back, looking me up and down with a look on his face that I'd never seen before. I didn't recognize it exactly, but it was somewhere in between shock and...happiness?

Whatever it was, my heart glowed. 

"So," He cocked his head to the side, crossing his arms, "Did that help?"

Rolling my eyes, I pushed myself off of the wall, walking towards him. 

"A little."

"Hm." He thinned his eyes, "I'd say more than a little."

"And I'd say you're a little too confident in yourself." I nudged his arm playfully, and he grabbed my wrist before I could pull away, yanking me back towards him and slamming his lips against mine. 

Instantly, his hands were roaming my figure, ducking underneath the fabric of my robe and finding their way to my ass. He squeezed tightly, pulling me to his chest and making me yelp, a smile forming on his mouth. 

"Too confident?" He muttered between kisses, biting lightly at my bottom lip, "I'd say I'm not confident enough."

"Don't be cocky, Malfoy." I breathed as he moved down to my chin and neck, sucking softly at my skin and seeming to completely forget about the fact that we were in a school hallway. That seemed to be the last thought on either of our minds. He just snickered softly in response, his breath tickling my skin and making me quiver once more. 

God, it was pathetic how easy it was for him to get me to unravel. It was like he'd been doing it forever. 

And as he did, I started to let my mind spin. 

I started to let myself question what was happening--if it was even real or not, or if I was in another one of my nightmare coated dreams. 

Maybe this was another trick. Another set up to humiliated me in front of everyone. Maybe all of Slytherin house was hiding behind the corner, waiting to jump out and mock me for believing that this could ever be a reality.

And as those thoughts started to seep in before I could block them out, I began to panic. 

All of a sudden, my chest was tight. My heart was slamming--not from excitement, but from terror, and I felt myself turn ice cold, like all the blood had drained from my veins at once. 

With a gasp, I shoved back from Draco's chest, knocking him away from me and stumbling backwards, nausea washing over me like a tidal wave. 

"Woodwick?" Draco stepped towards me concernedly, but I just waved him away with frantic motions, backing up quickly and trying to get control of my breathing again. I was heaving now, feeling as though my lungs had sealed shut and refused to let oxygen in.

I'd never had a panic attack before, and in the moment, I hadn't known what it was. But I had known that I never, ever wanted to feel it again. 

My face was as white as the snow outside as I stared at him, shaking and backing away with stumbling steps.

And maybe he would have gone after me if class hadn't ended seconds later, dozens of students pouring out of their classrooms and into the hallway, surrounding us in bodies and blocking us from each other's arms. Not that he would have come to me in a crowd like that. 

With that many people around, someone might see--someone who might not approve. And even though I didn't care, I could say confidently that Draco definitely did. 

Because I still had blood like mine. 

And even though he might have felt a certain way for me privately, I knew deep down that to anyone else watching, he would never show it. 

That was especially apparent as he just stared at me through the mass of students, his face helpless and empty. 

Maybe he wanted to reach me. Maybe he wanted to wrap me in his arms and tell me that I would be okay. Maybe he thought he might be able to help. 

But it didn't matter, because he didn't come. He didn't even take a single step towards me as I stumbled away, struggling to stay on my feet. 

And the worst part was that I wasn't even the slightest bit surprised.


	15. So Damn Easy

~two years before~

I wasn't exactly sure how the day was going to go. 

Because for the first time in almost two months, I wasn't walking into potions class with a sinking feeling in my stomach. I wasn't already nauseated at the thought of Draco and Pansy hanging all over each other. I hadn't had a nightmare the night before, making me wake up with cold sweats and quivering limbs. 

Because today, things were different. Very different. 

Good, but different. 

And another new thing as I stepped down the hallway with a particularly happy stride, was the wide smile on my lips, coming back every time I thought of him and his stupidly gorgeous face. 

It was ridiculous how excited I was to see him again, even if our last interaction hadn't ended very ideally. But I didn't want to think about that now. 

I wanted to start a new chapter. One where I wouldn't have to worry about what other people thought, or what they said. It would just be Draco and me, however we wanted to be, and no one else would matter. 

It was a good plan, and I was dead set on sticking to it.

But I failed to consider the fact that I couldn't just flip the switch in my brain to not care about other people and their opinions. Or their wandering hands...

As soon as I stepped into potions class, my eyes searching immediately for his white hair, I found it, focusing on his pale face and smiling towards him. I almost waved--which would have been embarrassing--but thankfully, I stopped myself cold as I realized that he wasn't looking at me at all. 

In fact, he looked pretty occupied with someone else. 

Pansy was stretched over the desk towards him, her hands toying at his resting in fists on the table. Her face was covered in a fake, flirty smile, her high pitched giggle echoing like the worst sound I'd ever heard through the mostly empty room. 

"Oh come on Draco," She leaned towards him again, and my blood boiled to a new high, threatening to vaporize in my veins. "Say you'll come."

"It sounds stupid." He muttered, clearly uninterested, "Why would I go?"

"Because it's fun, you bastard." She play-punched his shoulder, and suddenly I realized that my fists had balled without me even having to think about it. "And everyone will be there."

Draco didn't respond, raising his eyebrows weakly. Somehow, she still wasn't getting the hint. 

"And I'll be there," She added, as if that was some sort of convincing factor, "Don't you want to steal me for a dance?" Draco scoffed. 

"I don't dance."

I smiled to myself as I walked in front of them, sitting down at my desk and getting out all of my materials. Draco noticed me as I passed, lifting his head slightly and meeting my eyes for the quickest of moments. But we didn't share any words, not that I was surprised. 

The more I thought about it, though, I didn't really want to speak to him in front of Pansy anyway, or any of his other friends for that matter. For now, I supposed I was okay with being a secret. 

For now.

I fanned my books out on my desk, listening closely as Pansy continued to miss all of the social cues Draco was sending her. 

"I've always wanted to go to a ball," She giggled, "It's so romantic, don't you think?"

"I suppose."

"It is!" I heard her chair screech, and I figured she'd moved towards him again. Any closer and she'd be in his lap, which I guessed she wouldn't be opposed to. "It's a right of passage."

"It's a waste of time, if you ask me." He scoffed, and Pansy laughed. 

"Only if you were to go with someone you didn't like." I heard her friends giggle from behind her, and I rolled my eyes. "So..." She continued, and I could just smell the desperation wafting off of her robes, "If you had to go with someone, who would it be?"

Draco paused, and for a second, I caught myself waiting for his answer. I wasn't sure why, though. Obviously, he wouldn't say my name. And he also definitely wouldn't say Pansy's. So he did exactly what I expected for him to, which was to scoff and brush the question off with anther dismissing remark. 

"That's a stupid question," He muttered, "I'm not going."

For some reason, I was satisfied with that answer. 

The rest of the class was uneventful, and I nearly fell asleep as the professor droned on about different ways to prevent certain mixtures from exploding when combined. The only thing managing to keep me awake was my focus on the sounds coming from behind me, Pansy giggling ever so often at something Draco had said. And I could even hear him scoffing under his breath every time she did. 

Class finally ended after what felt like eternity, and I got up quickly, gathering my things and slinging my bag over my shoulder. 

I stepped out into the walkway to head for the door, but as soon as I did, someone shoved roughly into my shoulder from behind, and I was thrown forward onto my hands and knees with a smack. 

I yelped as I hit the ground, my books flying over the stone floor and sliding out of my bag's confines. Quickly, I turned over my shoulder to see who'd run into me, and to no surprise, Pansy's face met my gaze, her lips twisted up into a nasty snarl. 

"Oh, Cassia, did you trip?" She turned to her friends, laughing hysterically and letting them egg her on like it was the funniest thing anyone had ever done. 

"No, I didn't." I muttered, standing up with a huff and dusting the dirt off of my robes. 

"Are you sure?" She stepped towards me, and I flinched, "You're kind of clumsy."

"I--"

"Remember the way you ran away that day after you confessed your feelings for Draco?" She said innocently, glancing over her shoulder at him, who was still collecting his books and had yet to notice the altercation. But at the mention of his name, he glanced up, his eyes flickering between the two of us for a moment before he settled on mine. "You looked like you were about to fall over with every step!"

I didn't respond, just clenched my fists and brought my bottom lip between my teeth, swallowing back every nasty word I had saved just for her. 

"You know," Pansy continued, her head tilted infuriatingly to the side, "Draco and I were just talking about the Yule Ball. Do you have a date yet?" I gritted my teeth, my jaw tight and strained. 

"No."

"Oh, that's a shame." She nodded, "But I can't say I'm surprised." Her friends snickered from behind her, and I felt my face go red. Draco noticed. 

"Pansy, come on, let's go."

"What--why?" She turned to him, laughing. "I'm just talking to Cassia, here."

"You've talked to her enough," He put his hand on her shoulder, trying to usher her past me. "Come on, she's not worth our time."

Ouch. That one stung, even if I knew he was trying to help me. 

She looked me up and down once more before smiling towards him. 

"You're right." She winked at me, making my blood boil even hotter, "Good to catch up with you, Cass."

"Yeah, it's been brilliant." I muttered as she shoved past, her friends close at her heels as they swayed towards the door in identical steps. They looked incredibly stupid, and as I watched them go, I couldn't help but smile at the humor of it. 

I only noticed that Draco hadn't followed them as a body appeared at my side, pressing lightly against my arm. 

"Hello lovely," He muttered, making sure that everyone else had left the room before leaning down and planting a quick kiss on my cheek. I laughed, shoving him off and stepping in front of him, peering up with wide, excited eyes. 

"Lovely?" I questioned, "So you have a nickname for me now?"

"Don't get used to it," He shook his head, "I'm not usually one for pet names."

"Oh really?" I tilted my head playfully, "So I can't call you...let's see...blondie?"

"No," He smirked, "You can't."

"I think I will."

"Absolutely not."

"How are you going to stop me?" I stood up on my tippy toes, my lips ghosting against his. "You can't shut me up."

"I know I can't." He smirked, "That's why I like you." He kissed me softly, backing me into one of the desks with a hand on my waist, "I do wish you would shut up sometimes, though."

"Oh really?" I thinned my eyes, "Like when?"

"Like when you talk back." He bit lightly at my lip, "I told you years ago that you needed to learn to respect your superiors."

"Oh I remember," I ran my hands down his chest, feeling his heartbeat underneath his robes. "I just don't consider you my superior, is all."

"Hmm." He grunted, "We'll have to change that."

He backed up from my lips, looking down at me with playful, challenging eyes. I thinned mine in response.

"Give me your best shot, Malfoy." 

He just snickered, shooting forward and catching me in another kiss, his hands moving into my hair and massaging softly at my scalp. I hummed from deep in my throat, and the kiss deepened, both of us sucking in deep breaths through our noses as his hands moved down my chest and to my waist. 

In one swift motion, he slid his hands back to my ass and hosted me into the air, sliding me on top of the desk and resting his palms on my thighs. He squeezed tightly, and I made a surprised yelping sound, though I was quickly quieted as his tongue slid back into my mouth, cutting off any noise from my throat and drowning me in his lips. 

"You drive me crazy, Woodwick," He muttered between kisses, "I've never met anyone that makes me feel the way you do."

"That's nice," I kissed down along his neck, making him grip tighter into my thighs, "I wish I could say the same. I've met plenty of boys like you."

Draco scoffed, and I laughed into his shoulder, savoring the feeling of my face pressed up against his chest. 

"You're something else, you know?" He huffed, and I nodded. 

"I know."

A moment of silence consumed us, and Draco glanced up at the clock on the wall, cursing something underneath his breath and looking back to me with a sigh. 

"Hell, I have to get to quidditch practice." He shook his head, "But we're not finished here."

"Oh, we're not?"

"No," He wet his lips, his eyes flickering to my mouth and back up to my irises. "Meet me tonight."

"If I'm free." I shrugged, "Then maybe."

"Come on," He shifted closer, leaning forward and kissing softly at my chin and neck. I shivered, caving immediately. 

"Alright, fine." I shoved him back, "When and where?"

"The astronomy tower. Dusk." He stepped away, crossing his arms and puffing his chest. "Trust me, you don't want to miss it."

"You're setting some pretty high expectations for yourself." I slid off of the table, grabbing my books off the ground and stuffing them back into my bag. "You're sure you can live up to them?"

"Oh, I'm more than sure." He nodded, "When have I ever let you down?" I shot him an "are you serious" type look. 

"A lot of times, actually."

"Oh, right."

"You're a bloody idiot, Malfoy." I laughed, and he moved back towards me, grabbing my chin between his thumb and pointer finger and tilting my face up towards his. 

"An idiot you can't stay away from." He muttered, and I glared, pursing my lips. 

"Unfortunately." 

He kissed me quickly once more before whipping away, shooting me one last glance over his shoulder before he ducked out into the hallway, his footsteps leaving in the steady rhythm of his overly confident stride. 

And I was left alone, wondering how this was possibly a reality. 

God, I wish more than anything that I could go back to that moment. 

Back when things were so damn easy. 

So. Damn. Easy.


	16. They Don't Compare To You

~two years before~

It was already freezing when the sun was up, but now that it was descending from its high position over the horizon line, the temperature only continued to drop, making my teeth chatter loudly. 

I felt like it was all I could hear as I stepped slowly up the winding staircase, the steps seeming more endless the more I ventured upwards. 

I wrapped my thick coat tightly around my chest, the wooly fabric failing to help in the slightest. The chill was relentless, nipping at every nerve and making me quiver as the breeze got stronger. The further up the tower I went, the more the wind's strength increased, and as I finally reached the top, my lungs stinging from the frigid air, I almost felt like one strong gust would knock me back down the staircase. 

I'd never been up to the astronomy tower before. I wasn't sure why, exactly. I'd just never really thought about it. But now that I was standing on the platform of the circular room, I stared out across the horizon in front of me, marveling at the scene that met my eyes. 

The wooden planks creaked under my feet as I stepped forward, gripping the railing at the edge of the balcony and scanning my gaze along the mountaintops and the shiny surface of the giant lake below me. 

The wind whipped through my hair like it was angry, but I just brushed it away, far too amazed by the view to be phased by anything else. 

The sun, still setting slowly, was beginning to dip below the horizon line, its last remnants of light glimmering on the surface of the water in a golden display. The sky was clear and turning a shade of violet blue that I'd never seen before. It was like the heavens were putting on a show just for me, and I smiled, leaning over the railing with a thrilling rush of adrenaline. 

And as the exciting feeling spurred me on further, I raised a foot from the ground, placing it on the bottom rung of the rail and hoisting my figure up higher. I smiled so widely that I thought my face might be stuck that way permanently, and I puffed out my chest, letting the wind consume me and make me feel as though I was flying. 

And for the few seconds that I was standing there, I felt alive. 

"Bloody hell, Woodwick." A voice came suddenly from behind me, and my heart leapt. "Get down from there, you know you're clumsy."

"Where did this clumsy thing come from?" I shook my head with a smile as I stepped down from the railing, turning around to face him and feeling my chest swell. My eyes settled eagerly on his tall frame, standing at the top of the staircase with his usual smirk on his lips. 

He was dressed in a tight green quidditch sweater, a thicker jacket over top of it and black mittens on his hands. He just stared at me for a moment before striding in my direction and coming up directly in front of me, his hands moving to my face and brushing the loose strands of hair out of my eyes. 

"Some people just seem clumsy." He shrugged, "And you definitely do."

"And some people just seem like assholes." I thinned my eyes, "And you definitely do."

"I suppose I deserve that." He rested his hands on my shoulders, and I could feel my heart beginning to slam. "But I hope I'll be able to redeem myself."

"Maybe." I trailed one of my hands down his chest, feeling the soft fabric of his sweater underneath my fingertips. "We'll see."

"Hm." He grunted, "Maybe this will help."

He reached his gloved hand up to my chin, grabbing it softly between his thumb and pointer finger and tilting my face upwards. With a smirk, he leaned towards me, his lips ghosting in the faintest of touches against mine. He teased me for a moment, keeping just far enough away to drive me crazy and humming softly to himself. 

"Stop playing games," I whispered, "I'm getting impatient."

"I can tell." He muttered, his words forming against my lips, "Let's fix that, then, shall we?"

"Please." Was all I was able to get out before Draco shot forward with new aggression, his mouth meeting mine in a feverish, desperate kiss, our bodies melting together like clockwork. 

I moaned quietly as his hands roamed over my body, pulling me closer to him and making sure that our chests were pressed against one another, so tightly that I thought our heartbeats might begin to synch together. 

"Draco..." I breathed between kisses, my body reacting in a way I'd never experienced before. He moved down from my lips after a little while, kissing along my chin and neck with a firm grip on my throat, his cold hand sending a shiver through me. 

"You're so easy to unravel," He muttered, his teeth biting ever so lightly at my neck, "I love how desperate you get."

"I don't get desperate." My cheeks flushed pink, but Draco just smiled on my skin.

"Yes, you do."

I would have protested more, but I was quickly distracted as Draco's other hand began to snake down my figure, his fingers toying at the waist of my pants. 

Immediately, every part of me froze. 

My eyes going wide, I yanked away from him, his hands leaving my body as his face flashed a confused expression. 

"What are you doing?" I hissed, and he tilted his head. 

"What do you think?"

"No," I shook my head, turning away and facing the rail. "No. Not yet."

"Why not?" He came up behind me, his hands snaking around my waist and pulling my back to his frame. And I hated to admit it, but I loved the way he felt pressed against me. The way his body was so warm, and so comforting, like as long as he was holding me everything would be okay. But I snapped out of it a second later, shoving him away.

"You know, if that's all you want from me, I'm not interested."

Draco scoffed, and I turned around with thinned eyes. 

"What's funny?"

"Come on, is that seriously what you think?" He gestured out his hands. I just shook my head. 

"Is that not the truth?"

"You can't be serious, Woodwick."

I didn't respond--just stared with expectant eyes as I waited for an answer, and Draco sighed, tucking his gloved hands into his pockets. 

"That's not all I want from you. Not at all."

"Oh really?" I crossed my arms, "What do you want then?"

"Just--" He searched for the right words, his eyebrows furrowed like it was the hardest thing he'd ever considered, "Just--you."

I stalled, thoroughly surprised at his answer. 

"Just me?"

"Yes, just you." He stepped towards me again, and this time, I felt no instinct to shove him away. Maybe I should have, but I didn't. "You and your bloody attitude."

I laughed, unable to hold back my smile any longer, and he slid closer, his hand appearing at my waist once again. I put up no resistance as he pressed his figure back against mine, his lips inches away from my mouth in a smirk. 

"How about you tell me whenever you're ready?" He whispered, kissing me so softly that I almost didn't feel it. If I wasn't paying close enough attention, it could have been mistaken for the wind. "Until then, I won't try it."

"You'd better not." I whispered back, feeling his hair tickle my forehead as the wind whipped through it. "Or you'd better hope you know some good defense spells."

He snickered, catching me in a deep kiss and pressing me back against the railing, the feeling of adrenaline suddenly rushing back into my body. There was something about the moment--being right on the edge of such a high drop but knowing that there was something protecting me from falling. And the best part of it was that I didn't even mean the railing. 

Because all I could think about was Draco and his arms wrapped around me, keeping me the safest I'd ever been. Or at least it felt that way.

After a while, we finally pulled away, staring in silence with stupid smiles on our faces before Draco sighed, stepping back and walking to the railing by himself, though he kept one hand on my waist, leading me along next to him. I gripped the chilled metal with both hands, keeping one eye on the horizon line and one on his profile, staring out across the view. 

"I come up here almost every day." He muttered, his eyes drowning in a far away look. "But I come alone."

"Oh, so you don't bring every one of your hook ups here?" I nudged him in the shoulder, and he shook his head. 

"No, I don't."

I paused, bringing my bottom lip between my teeth. 

"So, what makes me different?"

Draco continued to watch the darkening horizon line as he considered my words, but I could see cogs moving behind his irises, an answer coming to his tongue faster than I expected. 

"Everything." He huffed, "Everything makes you different. From the way you speak, to your personality to your..." He stopped, and my breath hitched in my throat. 

"What...my blood?"

He nodded slowly. 

"Yes."

Even though I knew that it was still a reality--that maybe he hadn't let go of his prejudices all the way--that there was still a part of him that would never be able to fully accept me for who I was--I hadn't wanted to think about it. But now, as I was staring at him in the dusk light, the thought was far too prevalent. 

"Draco, do you still--" The words didn't want to come to my lips, because I knew exactly what the answer would be. But I also knew that I wouldn't be able to stop thinking about it unless I just got it over with. So I gritted my teeth, spitting the words out against everything in me. "Do you still think less of me? For...you know, who I am?"

"Woodwick..."

"No, I need you to answer the question."

He paused, looking down and taking a slow, deep breath. And when he finally answered, it was just as disappointing as I'd expected for it to be. 

"I don't want to."

"You don't want to." I just huffed, a dull pain creeping through my chest. 

"Yes, I don't want to. And I'm trying my best to change it."

I just shook my head, turning away from him and letting the wind dry the misty fog clouding my eyes. 

"You have to understand," He continued, "I can't just flip the switch."

I choked out a laugh, though it sounded more like a sob. Maybe it was one. 

"Why not?"

"Because it's all I've ever known." He reached for my wrist, grabbing it tightly and pulling me back towards him. But I resisted, staying where I was. "Look, I didn't expect to feel the way I do for you."

At that, I whipped back around, seething to cover the pain. 

"And I didn't want to feel the way I do for you either. See? We're both going against our better judgement."

"That's not what I--"

"And you know what? I wish I could just flip the switch, too." I kept going, my anger level rising in synch with the anguish. It seemed to grow stronger the longer I stared into his eyes. His stupid, gorgeous eyes. "And forget all about you and your whole bloody pureblood family. But I can't."

"Christ, Woodwick, stop!" He exclaimed, reaching forward and grabbing me by my shoulders. "I want to be with you! Okay?"

I finally stopped, my chest heaving as I glared up at him. My heart was pounding faster than whatever the healthy rate was, and I looked up and down his face, scanning over every inch as my body finally stared to calm down. 

I let out a loud huff once I had myself under control, yanking away from him and turning back to the railing. I gripped it with tight, strained hands, closing my eyes and letting the frigid wind calm my boiling blood. 

I could hear Draco shifting beside me, coming up to the railing once more and pressing ever so slightly against my arm. I didn't pull away, though I probably should have. 

This was tending to be a reoccurring problem--my inability to stay angry with him. And it was really getting on my nerves. 

But my thoughts were interrupted as Draco sighed loudly, his gloved hand nudging mine on the railing. I ignored it. 

"You see that constellation up there?" He finally spoke, and I peeked over through pinched eyes at him, watching him point up towards the heavens with an outstretched arm. "Do you know what it's called?"

"No." I said shortly, finding what he was pointing at in the sky and tracing the line of stars, shaped almost faintly like a snake. 

"It's called Draco, actually." He laughed, and I turned to him, rolling my eyes.

"Of course it is."

"My mother always tells me that it's her favorite constellation," He continued, his voice softer than usual, "And that every time she looks at me, she sees the same stars in my eyes."

I paused, nodding slowly and turning the information over in my mind. Personal information, I suddenly processed. That he shared with me. It caught me off guard, and I cleared my throat, looking down at my hands. 

"Well, I suppose you do have nice eyes."

He huffed. 

"You suppose?"

"Yes, I suppose."

Silence fell over us, and the only noise left was the whistling of the wind as the sun set completely, the stars and moon replacing it high over our heads. I watched them twinkle as they emerged from the light, and after a few short minutes, we were left with only darkness, the chill of the night fully setting in. 

I quivered from a particularly strong gust of wind, and Draco looked over at me, still silent but scanning his eyes up and down my figure. 

"You're shivering again." He finally mumbled, and I looked to him, immediately noticing the way the moony light caught in his pupils. They glistened like diamonds, and I suddenly realized why his mother saw the constellation in his eyes. 

"Yeah, I always shiver." I breathed, "But it's not from the cold." A pause, and I decided to say it, "You...you make me nervous."

Draco tilted his head to the side, sliding closer to me. 

"Why's that?"

"I don't like the way I feel about you." I stared helplessly up at him, praying that if I looked long enough, I would suddenly find a flaw. Something--anything to snap me out of my daze. But just like every other time, I found nothing. "It's too much."

"And how exactly do you feel about me?" He whispered, his voice threatening to get lost in the wind. But I heard it louder than anything else. "What's too much?"

I shook my head, trying to find the words. 

"You're all I think about." I breathed, "Every second, of every day." He didn't speak, just stared. "And you're in my head. I can't even sleep without seeing your face."

"Is that a bad thing?" He smiled. 

"Yes." I scoffed, rolling my eyes, "I don't want to--fuck---I don't want to care about you."

"Why not?" His hand slid back onto my hip, grabbing at my jacket and pulling me weakly towards him. I resisted. 

"You said it yourself." I tried to keep my face as blank as possible, "You'll never think I'm good enough."

"That's not what I said."

"It's what you meant." I sighed, looking down at my feet. "And I know it's the truth."

Draco stayed silent for a moment, which I took as confirmation of my words. And though it hurt, a dull pain spreading through my chest and sinking to my feet, I wasn't surprised. 

"I think I should go." I breathed, gripping even tighter at the railing, "I can't do this--"

"Woodwick, stop." Draco reached forward suddenly, his gloved hand wrapping around my wrist and yanking me towards him. "Don't leave."

"Why not, Draco?" I whispered, "Why should I stay? This isn't going to go anywhere."

"Don't say that." His expression was more serious now. In fact, I'd never seen him look so...afraid? "I don't want you to go."

"Then give me a reason to stay." I balled my fist as he continued to hold my wrist, and he tightened his jaw, yanking me back to the railing and pinning my hand against the cold metal. 

"Look up." He demanded, pointing up with determination and gesturing for me to follow. I sighed, letting my eyes trace the line of his arm and settling my gaze on a clump of bright stars, shining like they were putting on a show just for me.

"That's my favorite constellation." He said, his grip getting tighter by the second. It was like he thought that if he held on tight enough, I wouldn't be able to run away. "I come up here to see it all the time."

"Okay? How does that have anything to do with--"

"Christ, Woodwick, let me speak." He smirked, and I sealed my lips together, rolling my eyes. 

"My point is," He continued, "That up until I knew you, that constellation was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen." My heart flickered with some sort of hope, and I looked up at him, watching every movement of his face. Every blink of his eyes. Every slight ruffle in his hair. 

"But now," He lowered his voice, drawing me closer, "No constellation that has ever existed is as beautiful to me as you are."

My heart swelled so big in my chest that I thought it might burst, and I had to choke back the sob forming in my throat. 

"Do you understand?" He gripped me tightly, "They don't compare to you. Nothing does."

"Draco..." My voice trailed off, because what else could I say? I couldn't believe any of the words that had just spilled from his tongue, and I was suspended in disbelief, my heart slamming. 

"So don't leave." He stepped closer, his chest meeting mine once more and his hands winding together around my waist. "Stay. I want you to stay."

When I responded, I was sure that my voice was drowned out by the wind. But Draco smiled, and I guessed he was listening close enough to hear me. 

"Okay. I'll stay."


	17. I Thought You Didn't Dance

~two years before~

When my eyes finally started to flutter open, the first thing I noticed was Draco, and how his body felt leaning up against mine, his chest rising and falling slowly with calm, tranquil breaths. 

He provided the only source of warmth amidst the still whistling wind surrounding me, and as I glanced around, I watched the sun begin to peak back over the mountaintops, its light glimmering across the surface of the lake and catching my eyes in a golden haze. 

The air had the same chill as the night before, but any more snow had failed to fall, and I quivered, my teeth beginning to chatter almost as soon as my eyes opened. 

I wasn't sure of exactly when we'd drifted off, or how we'd possibly managed to fall asleep against the stiff surface of the astronomy tower wall. The wood under me was unkind to my now aching muscles, and I groaned softly, stretching my spine and hoping to relieve some of the sore pain. 

And when I sat up completely from the hard stone wall, rubbing the sleep from my eyes and glancing over at him, I smiled, looking at his relaxed face, free of the usual tension of his muscles. 

And for a moment, I almost wished that he would stay that way forever. 

For once, he didn't look angry, or worried, or sad, or exhausted. He just looked calm, and happy, and at peace. 

That was certainly rare, and I wanted it for him more than anything. Though I knew that as soon as he woke up, it would be gone. 

But that didn't have to happen just yet. 

I sighed, glancing down at Draco's gloved hand laying on my thigh and carefully slipping my digits under his wrist. Slowly, I raised it from my leg, sucking in a nervous breath through clenched teeth as I placed it on his own lap. 

And to my relief, Draco just groaned softly in his sleep, his arm shifting to wrap around his own chest. Instead of opening his eyes, he just re-adjusted his body against the wall, his head lulling to the side before falling forward limply. 

I smiled. 

But just as I did, Draco suddenly shifted again, this time straightening his spine quickly and groaning. His eyebrows furrowed, though his eyes continued to stay shut, and he twitched, his lip curling up into some sort of snarl. But it didn't look angry. It was more...fearful? Like something was attacking him. 

But there was nothing. 

He twitched again, and his breathing suddenly quickened, his calm, slow inhales quickly becoming ragged and huffed. I widened my eyes, stepping towards him. 

It looked like he was still asleep, but by the way he was moving--twitching like someone was striking him with something--I was starting to get concerned. 

He jolted again, more violently this time, and a pained cry spilled from his throat, his hands flying out in front of him like he was blocking something from getting to him. 

"...Draco?" I whispered tentatively, stepping towards him once more and outstretching my hand, "Are you awake?"

No response. Just more twitching, and another pained whimper. One that sounded even worse. My heart started to slam, and I gulped, not knowing what I was supposed to do. 

"Draco." I repeated again, louder this time, moving my hand over his shoulder and pausing. I'd heard before that you weren't supposed to wake someone up from a nightmare, or at least that was what I assumed was happening. But he was starting to breathe faster and faster, and I just couldn't bare having to watch him struggle anymore. 

I placed my hand softly on his shoulder, hoping that he would just open his eyes and go back to normal. 

But to my horror, as soon as I touched him, he jerked away like I'd smacked him, a scream spilling from his throat as he rolled away. 

"No!" He cried, "No, stay away from me!" His eyes were still squeezed tightly shut, and I rushed back towards him, shaking my head and shushing him comfortingly. 

"Draco, it's just me!" I whispered, "Open your eyes, it's just me."

"Don't touch me!" He backed towards the opposite wall, his breathing heavy and ragged. "Don't make me do it!"

I was in a frenzy now, desperate to help him somehow. I just didn't know how to get him to wake up. I tried to keep my voice calm and soft. If he did wake up, I didn't want to startle him more. 

"D--do what, Draco?"

"Stop! Stop! Please!"

I was out of ideas, so I shot forward again, grabbing his arm tightly and shaking him once. 

"Draco wake up!"

"Please--no!"

One more strong jolt, and he whimpered. 

"Draco!"

Suddenly, his eyes shot open wide, red and blood shot like he hadn't slept in weeks. His breathing was already so rapid that as soon as he finally started to come to his senses, he only began to gasp quicker, his hands going to his throat like he was choking. 

Instead of focusing on anything, his eyes darted around with a shadow of terror cast over them, as if he was looking for whoever was attacking him, and he heaved, looking more horrified than I'd ever seen him. 

"Draco," I repeated softly, and he finally whipped his head in my direction, his terrified gaze falling on me. And as soon as it did, I saw him relax, at least a little. I offered him a weak smile, falling to my knees in front of him and sliding up to his side.

He looked at me as if he was still afraid that I was about to attack, and I shushed him quietly, raising my hand slowly and moving it towards his arm. He watched me closely as I laid my palm on his shoulder, and to my relief, he didn't flinch away. 

His muscles were tense as I felt them underneath my fingertips, and I continued to shush him, moving closer inch by inch until I was close enough to place my other hand against the side of his face, still twisted with an expression of horror. 

His skin was ice cold to the touch, and he shivered like a leaf as I touched him, his bottom lip trembling just as horribly. 

"Shh," I continued, my voice as soft as a feather in the wind, "It's okay. You're okay."

He didn't say anything, just nodded weakly as he tried to get his breathing back under control. Slowly, he calmed himself, his shaking becoming less noticeable and dramatic as I stroked his cheek with my thumb. 

"You're okay." I continued to repeat, staring straight into his gray eyes and watching their fear-filled expression lessen more and more as the minutes passed. It felt like it had been hours by the time he finally cleared his throat, letting out a shaky exhale and looking down at his lap. 

His hair flopped down over his eyes as he eventually spoke, his voice fighting hard not to quiver. 

"I'm fine." He tightened his jaw, pulling away from my hand with a turn of his head. "Just a bloody nightmare."

"Just a nightmare?" I whispered, raising my hand again and stroking the back of his head. I felt him lean back towards my palm, closing his eyes once more. "Does this happen a lot?"

"Every so often." He said softly, "It's not a big deal."

"Draco..."

"Please, Woodwick." He muttered, swallowing, "I'm fine. I swear."

"You were screaming."

He turned to me, his brows furrowed. 

"Screaming?"

I just nodded, sliding my hand down to his and winding our fingers together. His rings pressed into my skin, their cold metal sending a shiver through me, and he shrugged off my words, rolling his shoulder back with a sigh. 

"Well I suppose that can happen with nightmares, can't it."

"Do, uh..." I started again, meeting his eyes tentatively, "Do you happen to remember what you were dreaming about?"

"No." He snapped, and I winced, "Of course not."

I wanted to believe him. I did. Somehow though, by the way he answered so quickly--and so defensively--I wasn't entirely convinced. 

"Sorry, I was just curious."

Both of us went silent for a long moment until Draco groaned, reaching up and rubbing at his eyes. 

"Sorry." He muttered, the word seeming to hang on his tongue as if he didn't want to let go of it. But I knew that it was hard for him to say it at all, so I smiled weakly in appreciation. 

"It's okay." I squeezed his hand, "I'm just glad you're alright."

"Yeah." He stared down at his lap, his hand feeling limp as his fingertips intertwined with mine. For some reason, my heart panged. 

"We should head back to the castle." I shifted towards him, my hand trailing down his chest. "I'm sure we'll already be in trouble for going missing all of last night."

Draco just nodded, his eyes still avoiding mine, and I brought my bottom lip between my teeth, trying to convince myself that his strange mood didn't have anything to do with me. He was just shaken up from his nightmare. It wasn't my fault at all. 

Right?

We both stood, shivering as another cold gust of wind whipped through the tower. I glanced out over the horizon line once more before we headed for the staircase, moving down level by level until we reached the bottom floor. 

Draco led me down and out onto the lawn, a patchy blanket of snow from the day before scattered over the ground. But it was almost worse that there was no new snowfall, because it was freezing enough to make me want to curl up in a pile of blankets in front of a fireplace and never leave. I always hated when it was cold without snow. It just didn't feel right, and I groaned, my teeth beginning to chatter once more. 

Draco shot me a quick side eye, and I raised my eyebrows in acknowledgement, wrapping my jacket tighter around my figure. 

"Are you not cold?" I stepped towards him, but he didn't bother to look at me again. 

"No." He mumbled, "Unlike you, I wore an appropriate amount of layers."

I scoffed, furrowing my brows. 

"Yeah, I guess I should have brought another jacket."

"Yes, you should have. It was stupid of you not to."

I stopped, shaking my head and laughing in disbelief. 

"What's your problem? You're being an ass."

"Oh please," He rolled his eyes, "If I wanted to be an ass, I could be. This is nothing."

"Good for you," I scowled, "I'm so glad you can be worse. But I don't want to be around you if you're going to act like this." I shook my head as I heard no resistance from him, turning away and stomping towards the courtyard entrance. 

I could feel his eyes on me as I walked away, and I crossed my arms, cursing at myself for even considering giving him a chance. Again. 

Maybe we just weren't compatible after all. We couldn't seem to go five sentences without getting in some sort of argument, and after only a few days, it was getting pretty exhausting. 

I muttered a string of words like "fuck him" and "bastard" under my breath, until I was suddenly interrupted by a new sound ringing through the air. 

For a moment, I couldn't place where it was coming from, and I glanced around, trying to find the source. 

But the sound wasn't a bad one. Not at all. In fact, it was quite the opposite. 

The soft beginning notes of Christmas music sounded through the air in melodic chimes, drawing my attention in the direction of the courtyard ahead of me and making me stop in my tracks. Up ahead, I caught a quick glimpse of a group of students, packed closely together in thick jackets and scarves with lit candles in their hands, singing the same starting note in harmony with the instruments. 

It was a beautiful sound, echoing against the stony walls of the castle and reverberating back towards me, who was now standing still on the lawn with chattering teeth, though I was barely paying attention to that now. 

I was strangely consumed by the music, my body entranced by the melodic sound and frozen in place. 

I watched the chorus group continued to sing, my chest filling up with a warm, happy feeling that usually came with the holidays. But it was stronger now, making my heart swell with a sense of comfort and safety that I never wanted to fade away. 

I sighed, wrapping my arms tighter around myself and watching them in quiet praise. 

And for a brief, stressless moment, I almost forgot about the fact that Draco was still behind me, watching me closely with his gray eyes. 

And if he'd just walked away in the other direction without so much as another word, leaving me to my thoughts, then I probably would have forgotten all the way. 

And maybe we never would have spoken again after that. 

Maybe I would have realized that whatever we were trying to work out, just wasn't worth the effort in the end. 

And maybe, just maybe, it would have ended there. 

But clearly, that wasn't what happened. 

I was abruptly reminded of his presence as his footsteps approached behind me, and I tensed, my nerves prickling defensively. I was ready to spin around and tell him to leave. I was having too good of a moment for him to ruin it. 

But as soon as I turned on my heels, my eyes thinned and my mouth already forming a word, he raised a single finger, shushing me and pressing it against my lips. I furrowed my brows, swatting him away and rolling my eyes, scanning my gaze up and down his smug expression. 

"Christ, what are you smirking at?" I hissed, "I'm actually having a nice moment here. Leave please before you ruin it."

"I don't want to leave." He shrugged, "I have something else in mind."

I groaned, shaking my head. 

"And what's that?"

"Dance with me."

I stopped, blinking confusedly up at him and the strange words that had just left his lips. I processed them, then convinced myself that I had most definitely heard him wrong.

"Do what?"

"Dance with me." He repeated, and I was just as taken aback as the first time I'd heard it. So I just laughed. Because it had to be a joke. 

"You can't be serious."

"I am." He looked me up and down, smiling, "Dance with me."

I thinned my eyes, tilting my head to the side and trying to find a hint of humor in his expression. 

"I thought you didn't dance."

"I don't." He scoffed, "It's ridiculous. But I upset you a moment ago. I thought I should try to redeem myself."

Caught off guard again, I scoffed, my face pinched with confusion. 

"Why do you look so surprised?" He asked, and I raised my eyebrows. 

"You're the last person I would expect to want to dance."

"Again." He rolled his shoulders back, clearing his throat and straightening his spine. "I don't like dancing. But this," He raised his arms, placing one hand on my waist and holding the other out for me to take. "This is different."

I hesitated for a moment, staring up at him with thinned, suspicious eyes. What was his game here? Somehow, I found myself doubting that this gesture was in any way genuine. 

But another part of me knew that I wanted to take his hand more than anything. And that part of me spoke way louder than the other. 

So tentatively, I reached forward, laying my palm against his and feeling him wind his fingertips through mine in a close weave. He gripped my hand tightly, pulling me close to him with his grip on my waist until our chests were pressed together once more. And as soon as they connected, I could suddenly feel his heartbeat as if it were my own, pounding steadily with every breath he took. 

"Come here." He muttered softly, moving his palm to my lower back and hooking his arm protectively around my waist. I shivered as he huddled me closer, beginning to sway back and forth to the slow rhythm of the faint music in the background, his head tucking into the crook of my neck. 

I was stiff for a moment, not knowing exactly what to do or how to handle what was happening. But slowly, as I accepted that maybe he was actually being serious, I finally let my muscles relax, my figure melting into his and sinking into the security of his arms. 

"You know," He mumbled into my hair, "The holidays are really starting to grow on me."

"Are they?" I smiled into his shoulder, my arm now hooked around his back as we swayed back and forth. I traced my finger along a seam in his jacket.

"At least some parts." He nodded softly, "Not others."

"You don't have to go back home, Draco." I whispered, my face laying against his chest.

"I do." He sighed, "Where else would I go?"

"You'd come with me." I pulled away, looking up at him with a hopeful expression. 

The offer left my lips before I could really think about it, but in the moment I wasn't worried about the possible ramifications at all. Because as I stared up at him, drowning in his pale gray eyes, all I could think about was how badly I wanted him to be happy on Christmas. And I was sure that if I could just get him away from his family, that maybe I'd be able to make that a reality. 

"Spend the holidays with my family."

Draco's expression was blank as I scanned my eyes over it--unreadable, and maddening. I just wanted to know what he was thinking, and as his silence dragged on, I began to wish that I could take the words back. 

Of course he wouldn't want to spend Christmas with my family. We weren't the kind of people he was used to, after all. My cheeks went as red as the berries on the holly trees, and I turned away, hiding the embarrassment in my eyes. 

"Hey," Draco's hand left mine, coming up under my chin and bringing my face back towards his. "You know that I can't."

"Yeah," I nodded weakly, my heart dropping like a brick, "I know."

Draco was quiet for a moment, just watching me as my face fell, before he moved his hand up my cheek, stroking my skin softly with his thumb. 

"I'll be thinking of you," He whispered, "Every day." 

I smiled weakly, nuzzling towards his palm. 

"You promise?"

"I swear."

I nodded, and Draco pulled me back towards him, my face pressed against his chest once more as he swayed us back and forth. His arms wrapped around me like a warm blanket, and I was consumed in the heat of his body, a welcomed shield from the cold wind whipping around us. 

The music was still playing softly in the background, the choir of students singing in harmony with one another as the notes of the song chimed along with them, and I felt the same warm feeling return to my chest.

And in that moment, I felt safe. I felt happy. I felt like everything--Draco and me, our relationship, our lives--everything, would all work out in the end. 

And just as I was letting my eyes flutter closed, my face nuzzling into the shoulder of his jacket, I watched the first few snowflakes floated down around us, drowning us in a blanket of fresh snow. 

And as the beginnings of the new blizzard consumed the castle and grounds, we were just two small figures inside of it, drowned out by the endless sea of white and blue. 

We were so insignificant. 

So small. 

But so important at the same time. 

And maybe to him, the moment didn't matter. Maybe he didn't think about it every time he closed his eyes at night, or tried to conjure up a happy memory for a patronus charm. Maybe it wasn't what he dreamed about, or what he wished he could go back to more than anything. 

But to me, it was everything. 

And I would never, ever be able to forget it.


	18. We Have Plenty of Time

~two years before~

Draco's dorm. 

The idea of it made my stomach churn, half with excitement and half with nervous nausea. But either way, it was too late to turn back now. 

I was tip-toeing as quietly as humanly possible, my breaths shallow and short as I peeked around every new corner, the sound of my footsteps seeming to slam like anvils against the stone floor. 

I wasn't expecting to run into anyone. It was about three in the morning after all, and my only real concern was crossing paths with Filch, or maybe Snape. Otherwise, I had a pretty good feeling that I was in the clear. 

As long as no one noticed that I was missing from my bed, I would be able to slip back under my sheets in the morning and pretend that I'd been there all night. 

If everything went to plan, no one would ever know. 

I turned another corner, feeling thankful for the party all those months ago. Without it, I would have had no idea where to go to find the Slytherin common room, or how I was supposed to get inside of it. But that was when I realized: 

How was I supposed to get in?

Last time, the wall had been hexed for the party. But now, I doubted that that would be the case. 

"Shit," I cursed under my breath, shaking my head and groaning softly. I didn't know the passcode, and of course I hadn't thought to ask Draco what it was. 

So as I approached the wall, looking around to make sure that I was completely alone, I put my hand up to the surface, cursing again as my palm failed to sink through the stone. The hex was gone, and I was left standing in front of a completely solid wall, my stomach dropping to the floor. 

I glanced nervously over my shoulder once more, feeling around and hoping that I would happen upon some sort of secret hatch. But alas, I found nothing. 

I crossed my arms, sighing and staring up at the unmoving obstacle, my eyes thinned as I tried to think of some way to get past it. 

So I tried a spell. 

"Alohomora." I pointed my wand out in front of me like an idiot, and obviously, nothing happened. I assumed that it wouldn't--it was too easy--but still, I rolled my eyes, sticking my wand back into my robe and trying to come up with something else. 

I walked back up to it, leaning my face against the stone in a futile effort to hear if anyone was standing on the other side. Of course, I heard nothing but silence. 

That was until the sound of footsteps entered my eardrums, and I leaped back, my nerves prickling with fear. What if it was Snape on the other side of the wall, ready to send me to detention for being out of my bed this late at night? Or worse, another Slytherin, wondering why I was waiting outside their dorms at three in the morning. 

I was sure that even if I told them the truth of why I was there, they would never believe me. 

So as my heart leaped with terror, I spun on my heels, ready to bolt and hide behind the nearest corner. I ducked behind a shallow indent in the wall where it seemed a statue used to be placed, and tried to quiet my loud breathing, my hand clamped over my mouth like a gag. 

But to my immense relief, as the stone entryway began to slide open, I was met with a familiar whispering-hiss. 

"Woodwick?" Draco's voice echoed through the passageway, and with a sigh, I stepped out from behind the wall, my eyes falling on his sleepy face and unbrushed hair. 

And for some reason, I'd never been more attracted to him. 

There was something about the unkemptness of his appearance--the way his pale eyes seemed to stand out even more against the dark circles under them, the sleep-caused kinks in his usually combed hair, the missing robes over his body, replaced with dark green sweatpants and a gray t-shirt. All of it made my heart skip more than a few beats in my chest. 

I smiled before I could stop myself, stepping towards him and stopping right in front of his tall figure. 

"I couldn't open the door." I said simply, and he huffed, tilting his head to the side. 

"Come on." He reached forward, his hand snaking down my arm until his digits intertwined with mine. He squeezed my fingers in his once before pulling me back into the dark passageway, the stone barrier sliding closed behind him and sealing with a hiss. 

We hurried along in silence, his hand firmly in mine, yanking me along every time I slowed down too much. He led me into the room I remembered from the party, the giant fireplace laid out in front of me and the long couches still surrounding it in the same pattern. 

But this time, he pulled me up a set of winding stairs, leading to a long hallway with a tall ceiling and what looked like dozens of doors. We passed a few before he stopped in front of one, producing a small silver key from his pocket, a shallow symbol of a serpent carved into the side of the metal. 

He twisted it into the handle with a grumble, glancing quickly over his shoulder before shoving the door open and ushering me inside. 

And as soon as I entered the room, I was overwhelmed with an immediate sense that everything in the space was expensive. More expensive than I could ever hope to afford. 

From the giant green rug on the floor, which looked like it was laced with gold, to the chandelier hanging from the ceiling, I couldn't decide whether I should even be allowed to be in the same space as things so valuable. 

A tall-posted bed laid against the wall opposite to me, its dark wood polished and shined to perfection. The comforter was dark green, with a large trunk at the base of the bed, a soft looking blanket draped over the top. 

A desk sat to the right of me, a smokey candle burning with a bright flame on its surface, surrounded by a neat stack of books and papers, a still dripping quill damaging the wood underneath it. The chair that went with it was pulled out from under the table, a stack of clothes sitting on top and a scarf draped over its back, perfectly folded, just like every other perfect thing in the room. 

And unlike my dorm, which I shared with a few other girls, Draco seemed to have the room all to himself, evidence of any other people failing to present itself. 

The space almost felt untouched, like no one had ever lived -- or even stepped foot -- in it before, and I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to take up as little space as possible. Something about the room made me feel like I didn't deserve to be there, and I cowered in the face of a framed picture sitting on Draco's bedside table, his father and mother staring back at me with condescending glares. 

And between them in the photo was the same Draco Malfoy I remembered from that day in Diagon Alley, his white hair slicked back completely, his eyes thinned and judgmental, and his arms crossed tightly over his chest. 

He looked like a little asshole, and I smiled, remembering how accurate that assumption was, especially back then. 

"What do you think?" He appeared behind me, his waist pressing against mine from the back. His arms snaked around my chest, holding me close to him as he tucked his head into the crook of my shoulder. 

"I don't think I'm rich enough to be in here." I smiled, and he shrugged. 

"Probably not."

Rolling my eyes, I shoved him off, stepping deeper into the space and approaching the side of his bed. I ran my hand over the mattress, feeling the downy fabric below my fingertips and imagining how comfortable it would be to lay underneath it. 

Even his pillows were perfect, fluffed in a way that made them look like clouds and monogramed in the center with his initials. 

"D. L. M.", they read in thin, golden stitching, and I traced my fingertips over the letters one by one, whispering the words in my mind. 

Draco. Luscious. Malfoy. 

No matter how many times I repeated them, they still sounded so dignified. So poetic. Just like everything else about him. I couldn't deny, his name fit him perfectly. I couldn't imagine him being called anything else. 

"How do you have this room all to yourself?" I turned around to face him, watching him pick up the candle on the desk and move it over to his bedside. 

"My father pulled some strings back in my first year," He said simply, "I've always had a room of my own."

I nodded, sitting down gingerly on the edge of the mattress. 

"Must be nice."

"It is. Especially when I need to escape the bloody idiots in this house."

"Who do you mean, exactly?"

Draco scoffed. 

"All of them."

He took a few steps towards me, coming around the corner of the bed and hovering above me, a smirk pained across his face. He reached forward, his hand brushing a piece of hair away from my eyes and tucking it behind my ear. 

"They're almost as annoying as you." He huffed, and I rolled my eyes. 

"I'm sure."

I reached forward, grabbing his t-shirt and yanking him towards me, his thin figure collapsing on top of mine with a grunt. He buried his face in the crook of my neck for a moment, biting quickly at my earlobe before pushing himself up onto his forearms, his face hovering just inches above mine. 

We were silent for a moment, but I didn't care. I was entranced by every part of his face. His lips, so perfectly curved into a smile -- so full and kissable. His skin, as smooth as glass and blemish free. His eyes, as gray as the stormiest skies, but also so full of life and brightness. And every time I stared into them, whether it was the first or hundredth occasion, I never failed to get lost in their depth. 

"I want to know more about you." I suddenly whispered, my infatuation guiding my tongue. "Tell me something I don't know."

"Hm." He furrowed his brows, rolling to my side and laying on his back next to me. We both stared up at the ceiling of his bed, a dark-stained wood with a carving of a snake on its surface. "What do you want to know?"

"What's your happiest memory?" I turned towards him, my lashes batting slowly. 

Draco paused, seeming to have to think about it for far too long. But slowly, his eyes lit up, and he smiled. 

"When I got my wand in Diagon Alley." He looked over to me, "It was a day I'd waited for for a long time."

"That's a good one." I nodded, "I remember when I got mine, too."

"That was the same day you punched me, now that I think of it."

"I thought we agreed not to talk about that anymore."

"Right."

"Right."

I smirked, staring back up at the ceiling and tracing the outline of the snake with my pupils. 

"What's yours?" He asked, and I sighed. 

"I remember one Christmas with my dad." I started, "I was pretty young, but we were at my mom's grave and we covered it in candles and left little presents for her." My heart glowed at the memory, and I swallowed back the lump forming in my throat, "It just felt nice, you know? To finally spend Christmas together, with all three of us."

I could feel Draco looking over at me, but I continued to stare straight up, blinking the tears back and putting a smile back on my face. 

"Do you miss her?" He whispered, and I nodded. 

"I miss the idea of her." I managed to get out, "I don't remember much of what she was like."

"I've heard great things about your mother." He continued, his voice soft and fragile, "That she was an amazing witch. Very talented." I beamed, imagining what her smile must have looked like in person. 

"I've been told."

"Coming from my father, that's a very impressive compliment, you know."

I looked over at him, my eyes wide.

"Your father said it?"

"Mhm." 

"Wow." I nodded to myself, huffing in disbelief. "I'm surprised he gave my family any sort of compliment."

"Well, to be fair, your mother was a pureblood."

"Yeah," I turned on my side, moving to face him, "She was."

We were quiet for a moment, and Draco sighed slowly, his chest rising and falling with almost elegant, drawn out movements. 

"Draco?" I whispered, and he raised his eyebrows. 

"Yes?"

"I want to know you."

He paused, looking confused. 

"What do you mean?"

"I want to really know you. Everything about you. Who you are in the deepest parts of yourself."

"Wow," He smiled, "You're sure you want to know me that well?"

"I'm serious," I swatted at his arm, "I want you to let me in."

"Alright." He breathed, his eyes locked with mine. "I'm not exactly sure how to do that."

"Just promise me that you'll try. That you won't just quit if things get hard."

"Okay. I promise." He whispered, wetting his lips and making my eyes flicker down to them, "I'll try. But you have to promise me the same thing."

"Alright." I smiled weakly, "I promise you."

Draco's eyes crinkled as he slid towards me on the mattress, his hand cupping the side of my face and bringing me closer to his. His nose tickled against the tip of mine before he pressed our lips together in the most fragile of kisses, the sweet smell of his cologne making me dizzy with bliss. 

The kiss deepened quickly, his tongue slipping between my teeth and swirling around mine, a low groan echoing from his throat. I could feel my nerves prickling with excitement, standing so on edge that I was afraid my body might go into shock. 

I combed my fingers through his soft hair, resting one hand at the back of his neck and pulling him closer to me, savoring the feeling of his lips against mine. 

God, he was a good kisser. The minutes passed by like seconds as we laid together, our hearts racing in unison as the moment continued to increase in intensity, so much so that by the time we finally took a breath, Draco's body was hoisted over mine again, his chest being held up by his forearms. 

We were both gasping for breath as we stared at each other, our cheek flushed red and hot like we'd been trapped in a sauna for hours. 

And for a second, in the pure heat of the moment, I considered going all the way. 

For a second, I felt ready. I felt mature. And for the quickest of fleeting moments, I was sure. 

But then it passed, just as quickly as it had appeared, and I froze, the red of my cheeks becoming more from embarrassment than anything else. Draco noticed the shift in my expression almost immediately, and he furrowed his brows, lifting himself further off my chest. 

"What's wrong?" He questioned, and I just shook my head. 

"I--I don't know. For a second I just thought about--" I stopped, biting my lip, "Never mind."

"What?"

"Sex." I blurted, and he stopped, his eyes going wide. 

"Oh." He nodded, "I thought you didn't want to--"

"I don't." I interrupted, "I just got caught up in the moment."

Draco paused, a smirk creeping over his lips. 

"Well, it was a pretty good moment."

I huffed. 

"Yes, it was."

"Up until you ruined it." He teased, and I rolled my eyes. 

"Yeah, sorry about that. That tends to be a pattern with me, doesn't it."

"You speak your mind whenever you feel like it," He shrugged, rolling off of me again and landing back on the mattress, "That's not a bad thing, even if it gets in the way of things sometimes."

"It gets in the way all the time." I huffed, and he nodded. 

"It's alright," He turned to face me again, a warm smile on his lips, the kind of smile I only ever saw when we were alone. "We have plenty of time to make up for the lost moments."

We have plenty of time. 

Plenty of time. 

Time. 

If only I'd known back then, how quickly time would pass us by, and leave this day so far in the past that I almost couldn't reach the memory anymore. 

Not that I would ever stop trying to retrieve it. 

Even when it was much too painful to bear. 

I sighed, reaching my hand towards his face and brushing a piece of hair out of his eyes, the way he'd done for me. It wasn't long enough to tuck behind his ear, so it just fell right back into place, but I didn't care, because my hand had moved to the side of his face, sliding down his soft cheek and tracing the edge of his jawline. 

And once again, I found myself in awe of every part of him. Every blink of his eyes. Every inch of his skin. Every strand of his hair. 

My hand trailed down to his chest, feeling his pounding pulse underneath my fingertips and pausing there, trying to count the beats in my head. 

And as I did, a strong shiver crept up my spine, making me quiver against him. 

"You're shaking again." He mumbled, and I looked up, meeting his icy irises as the air fleeted from my lungs. "Here," He reached for the blanket folded on top of the wooden chest resting at the base of his bed, pulling it up onto the mattress and over my legs.

I smiled, huddling into its warm embrace and laying my head down completely, an unwelcomed yawn escaping me. 

"It's late." Draco muttered, his hand trailing down my arm. "You should get some rest."

"I don't want to walk back to my dorm yet," I grumbled, burying my face in the mattress, "It's so far away."

"Stay here, then."

His words caught me off guard, and I raised my eyebrows, laughing. 

"Stay here?"

"Yes." He nodded, as if it was no big deal, "You can sneak out early tomorrow morning, and no one will ever know."

I chewed my lip, considering it. Did I want to stay? Of course. But something told me that with my luck, I wasn't going to be able to slip out in the morning unnoticed. 

But before I could worry about it too much, I let myself smile, nodding tiredly. 

"Okay." I yawned again, "I'll stay."

"Brilliant." He shifted towards me, kissing the tip of my nose softly before sliding off the bed and pulling the sheets back from the headboard. They were perfectly white underneath, as if they'd never been touched before, much less slept in, and Draco folded them back neatly, a skill that he'd clearly mastered with lots of practice. 

"Come on," He muttered, waving me towards him, "I'm bloody exhausted, too."

I moved to the headboard, slipping my legs under the sheets and nestling into the warm embrace of the soft linen. The blanket over top provided even more warmth, and I sighed comfortably, my head sinking back into the cloud-like pillow. 

I hated to say it, but I'd never laid on such a comfortable mattress before. Never felt such soft sheets. Never rested my head on a monogramed pillow. But regardless of how ridiculous it was, it felt amazing. 

Draco slid under the sheets next to me, the candle leaving his bedside table and coming in front of his face. 

"We'll have to wake up early to sneak you out," He sighed, "Better get to sleep now, then."

"Okay." I yawned, my eyes fighting to stay open in the dim candle light, "Goodnight, Draco."

"Goodnight, Woodwick."

With a quick breath, he blew the flame out, the light dissipating from the room in the flash of an eye. And with it, a window revealed itself near the ceiling, dim moonlight filtering in through the thin slit. I was surprised that moonlight even made it to the glass, being so far under the Black Lake's surface. 

But I watched it with weary eyes, my breathing slow and steady as my heart rate calmed. My limbs grew heavy. My muscles relaxed. My lids fluttered shut. 

And just as I was about to drift off completely, my mind going blank and dark, my last memory was of Draco's arm falling over my chest and huddling my closer to him. And with a sleepy sigh, I lifted my head from the pillow, resting it against his shoulder and re-adjusting until my ear was up against his chest, his heartbeat echoing through my mind and sending me into a deep, calm sleep. 

And as I began to dream, all I saw was his face.


	19. Cassia

~two years before~

"I got my dress last week," I could hear Pansy's annoyingly high pitched voice as I peeked out of Draco's doorway, my eyes scanning up and down the hall to make sure that the coast was clear. It was, as far as I could tell, but I still felt my nerves prickle every time she uttered another word. "It's gorgeous. I can't wait to see his reaction when I show up in it."

Her voice sounded distant, and I assumed that she was sitting down near the fireplace, giving me a quick opportunity to slip away. That was, unless Draco didn't distract them well enough.

He came up behind me, his hands snaking around my waist and pulling me back from the doorway. He flipped me around, our eyes meeting for a split second before he suddenly brought his lips to mine, my body slamming the door back into its place and sending a loud sound through the hallway.

But Draco didn't seem to care, his hands moving into my hair as he sucked a deep breath in through his nose, a smile forming on his lips. 

"I want you to come here every night," He breathed between kisses, "Say it. Say you'll come back."

"Draco, I can't." I whispered, struggling to speak against his lips, "I want to, but--"

"I want you here," He moved down to my chin and neck, pulling my hair back and nibbling at my earlobe. I shivered, my eyes fluttering with bliss. "Come on."

"I'll try, okay?" I smiled, my hands resting on the back of his neck and feeling the base of his hairline as he came back up to my lips, kissing me deeply and making my knees feel weak. 

"I don't want to sleep without you ever again," He mumbled, nuzzling his face into my neck. "You're warm." 

My heart glowed at his words, and I ran my hands through his soft hair, watching it slide between my fingertips like silk. 

"Warm?"

"Mhm." He bit lightly at my skin, "Comforting."

"Good." I whispered, "I'm glad. But right now I really need to get back to my dorm before they realize I'm gone."

"Right." He pulled away with a frown, pouting like a baby. I laughed, wiping my thumb over his bottom lip. 

"Come on." I shook my head, "You've got to help me get out of here."

"Fine." He huffed, "I'll go distract them."

"Thank you." I stood up on my tippy toes, planting one last quick kiss on his lips before grabbing the door handle again and peeking out into the hall. It was still clear, but unfortunately, Pansy's voice continued to echo up from the common room, making my stomach churn. If she spotted me, she wouldn't hesitate to make my life a living hell. Not that she didn't already try to do that on the daily. 

"Make sure Pansy doesn't see me." I looked straight into his eyes, pointing my finger bossily. "She will literally kill me."

Draco nodded, smirking. 

"Yes, she definitely wouldn't like spotting you here."

"Definitely not." I peeked out again, making sure it was safe one last time before I took a deep breath and let Draco slide past me. He shot me one last look over his shoulder before he slinked down the hall, descending the staircase and leaving me alone in his dorm. 

I could hear Pansy's high pitched squeal as he came into view, and the way she said his name so flirtatiously. It made me immediately nauseated, and I gagged, shaking the feeling away and stepping out into the hall myself. 

Tip toeing along, I was careful not to misstep and make too much noise, but I couldn't help but jump every time the slightest sound came from behind me. Luckily, no one appeared around me, but my heart was still slamming like a drum, adrenaline rushing through my veins. 

I reached the stairs, listening closely as Pansy moved around downstairs, Draco's name leaving her tongue every five seconds as if saying it enough would make him like her more. I smiled to myself, knowing that it was too late for that. 

I crouched down, hiding behind the stone railing as I descended the stairs, holding my breath and trying not to step too loudly. 

"I heard that Viktor Krum asked someone," A girl's voice spoke, interrupting Pansy's. 

"He did? Who?"

"Granger, apparently."

"Granger?" Draco's voice scoffed, "Why the bloody hell would Krum ask that nasty Mudblood to the ball?"

Pang. Ouch, that one stung. I knew he wasn't talking about me, but in a way, he kind of was. 

"I have no earthly idea." Pansy chimed in, "It makes no sense to me, Purebloods mixing with that sort. It's disgraceful, honestly."

"It's disgusting." Draco spoke again, and my heart lurched. He knew that I was listening, didn't he? "In fact, I say it should be illegal."

"I agree." Pansy said, and I could just tell that she was smiling that horrible, obnoxious smile of hers. "It's already a crime in my eyes."

"Anyway," The other Slytherin girl spoke again, "Who are you all going with?"

"You know who I'm going with, obviously." Pansy responded, her voice jumping up an octave. "Isn't that right, Draco?"

Draco?

My stomach immediately felt like it had dropped out of my body, and I froze, my eyes wide. 

"Yes." He responded shortly, his voice quieter then before, and my blood turned to ice in my veins. I nearly choked, vomit bubbling up in my throat. 

Was he trying to keep me from hearing? It was a little too late for that, and I could barely bring myself to take another step down the stairs, pain creeping from my heart and seeping into the rest of my body. 

"I was just telling them how much you're going to love my dress," Pansy continued, making my blood boil into steam.

"Hm." Draco just grunted, and I could feel my fist balling, ready to connect with his jaw the same way it had all those years ago in Diagon Alley. 

"I can't wait to see what Cassia wears," Pansy laughed, "Whatever it is, she'll look ridiculous."

Draco didn't respond, but everyone else laughed, making my stomach drop even further to the ground. 

"Do you figure it'll have holes in it? Since she's so bloody poor?"

"She'll probably borrow a dress from someone." The other girl chimed in, "Something nice and tight, to try and impress Draco."

She and Pansy laughed, but again, Draco was silent. I was nearing the bottom of the stairs now, and I peeked carefully around the corner, making sure that no one was looking in my direction. They weren't, their backs to me as they sat around the fireplace, laughing like it was the most hilarious thing anyone had ever said. 

"What's with the face, Draco?" Pansy nudged him on the shoulder, sitting far too close to his side than I would have liked. "It's funny."

"I just don't think the topic is even worth discussing." He shoved her off, "Why even talk about her?"

"Because she's awful." Pansy retorted, "And she's desperately in love with you."

Draco scoffed, and I didn't have to see his face to imagine the way his eyes rolled. 

"Christ, Pansy, shut it, would you?" 

Her spine immediately went stiff, and she prickled, looking embarrassed even from behind. 

"Why are you defending her?" She sneered, "She's a filthy half-blood. She's no better than Granger."

"I didn't say that she was, did I?" He snapped, and she moved away on the couch, her arms crossed tightly. She waited a few awkward moments before she spoke again, her syllables hissed like a snake. 

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you've gone soft, Draco."

"Oh please," He scoffed, "I have not."

"Say it, then." She turned towards him again, and from her side profile, I could see her eyes thin into slits. "Call her what she is."

He rolled his shoulders back, sighing.

"And what's that?"

"A filthy, nasty little Mudblood."

Draco paused, and for a moment, I thought he might do the right thing. I thought he might refuse. I though he might not let me down. But I was wrong. 

"She's a filthy, nasty little Mudblood." He said dryly, "Satisfied?"

"Yes." She smiled, "Now I am."

In that moment, I wished that I was deaf, and I also wished that Draco had a spine. 

But the saddest part of all was that I wasn't surprised in the least. 

I stayed low to the ground, sneaking towards the door and praying that Pansy wouldn't turn around, or any of them for that matter. Not even Draco. I didn't think that I could bear to look him in the eyes after hearing what I'd just heard. 

I couldn't seem to get out of the room fast enough, my heart throbbing like someone had stabbed it through the middle and tears threatening to well in my eyes. 

Finally, I reached the short stairs to the exit, climbing up them on my hands and knees and holding my breath once more. 

The group by the fireplace started talking again, and I started to feel relief wash over me. I was so close. Just a few more inches and I'd be hidden completely behind the wall--

"Who's that?" Pansy's voice sliced through everyone else's, and a kind of fear I'd never felt before shot through me. 

"Who?" The other girl asked, looking around. But by then I was already tucked behind the wall, standing up to get ready to bolt towards the door. My heart was slamming as I picked up speed, rushing to the exit and praying that as I leaned against it, it would open. 

Please, please, please, I prayed, my feet moving quicker than they ever had as my hands met with the stone wall, pressing desperately against it.

And to my relief, it opened. 

"I thought I saw--"

"Pansy, go get my robe from my room, will you?" Draco interrupted her, "Then we can go to breakfast."

"I--" She started, seeming to hesitate to let go of her strange spotting of someone crawling out of the common room. But quickly, she gave in. "Okay, I'll be right back."

I let out a giant sigh as I finally spilled out into the main hallway, my heart slamming and begging me to get as far away from Slytherin as possible. And that's exactly what I did. 

I bolted away, refusing to let myself look over my shoulder to see if anyone was following me. 

And as I did, the first of many tears fell on my cheek. 

It was strange how quickly a good day could turn into the worst one in the blink of an eye. But I supposed that with Draco Malfoy, I had to learn to expect the unexpected. Or more accurately, expect the worst before anything else. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Per usual, potions class was awful. But especially awful today because I'd sworn to myself that I was going to ignore Draco. I wanted him to feel my anger. My pain. I couldn't just let him get away with what he'd done. 

Him going to the Yule Ball with Pansy hurt badly enough. But what he'd said about me...I couldn't forget it. And I didn't plan on trying to. 

I'd refused to come back to his dorm the night before like he'd asked me to, and I hoped that he'd taken the hint that I was upset. But something told me that he wasn't that perceptive.

"That wraps up the lesson for today." The professor closed her book with a smack, smiling towards the class. "You're all dismissed."

Chairs screeched as my classmates stood and walked towards the door, and I did the same, keeping my eyes down on the ground and avoiding his at all costs. I didn't want to speak to him. Especially since I knew that Pansy was around too, and probably very close by. 

He was her date, after all. Why wouldn't she stick around?

I stepped out from my desk, my books in my arms and my eyes anywhere but looking straight ahead. I could hear him behind me, talking to one of his friends as he gathered his things, making me shiver. 

I headed quickly for the door, slipping out into the hall and breathing a sigh of relief. I fled the scene as fast as I could, turning a corner and stopping behind the wall with a deep breath through my nose. I leaned my head back against the stone, closing my eyes for a moment and letting my nerves calm down all over my body. 

But just as I was almost finished collecting myself, his voice snapped me rudely out of my trance. 

"Woowick," He whispered, coming up in front of me with a smile and reaching for my arm. I recoiled, but he didn't seem to pay it too much mind. "You'll never guess what happened in class, Blaise mixed--"

"Why are you talking to me?" I cut him off, glaring. He stopped, tilting his head and furrowing his brows. 

"Wha--"

"Why don't you go talk to your date?" I spat, "Or someone who isn't a nasty, filthy little Mudblood."

His face fell, but I didn't relent, keeping my eyes as thin as the edge of a piece of paper. 

"Woodwick, I didn't--"

"What, Draco? You didn't mean to ask her to the ball? Or you didn't mean to say nasty things about me when you knew I was listening?"

"I want to go with you, you know that. And those things I said--come on, you know that I didn't mean them." He reached for my arm again, but I yanked it away, shoving him in the chest and knocking him backwards. 

"Don't touch me." I snapped, and he raised his hands in front of him, nodding. 

"The ball is stupid." He scoffed, "It doesn't matter whether I go with her or not."

"No, it does matter." I raised my voice, "Because the only reason you're going with her is because you're too ashamed to go with me."

"I--"

"Don't even try to deny it, you ass." I shoved him again, my anger level raising. "It's the truth."

"I have an image to keep up," He muttered, "I can't just--"

"You can't be seen with me." I finished the sentence for him, "And I knew that. But I guess I just hoped that you would realize--" I sighed, my shoulders dropping, "I hoped that things would change."

"Woodwick," He reached for my arm again, and this time, I let him touch me. "I don't want things to be this way."

"But they are," I looked up at him with glassy eyes, my voice softer now. More afraid. "And it doesn't look like they're ever going to change."

Draco's gaze scanned my face, looking more and more desperate by the second. I think he knew what I was about to say, and he was just as terrified of the words as I was. 

"Please," He whispered.

"I don't want to do this anymore," I choked, a lump forming in my throat, "I can't keep letting you hurt me."

"I'm not trying to." He shifted towards me, and I turned away. I felt his grip go cold around my arm. 

"I think," I shook my head, my heart lurching, "I think we need some space."

"Woodwick, don't do this--"

"Please, Draco." I looked back into his eyes, finding only pain in his pale irises. "Don't make this harder."

"Then don't give up." He shifted towards me again, his hand cupping my cheek. I let out a choked sob, closing my eyes and savoring the feeling of his palm against my face. Because I knew that seconds later, it would be gone. 

"I hope you have fun with her." I opened my eyes, brushing his hand away and stepping past him, walking down the hall and leaving him behind. "You two will be great together."

"Woodwick," He called after me, softly at first. When I didn't look back, he tried again, his voice more desperate. "Woodwick!"

Again, I didn't turn around. I heard him curse under his breath before he spoke again. 

"Cassia!"

Instantly, I froze. 

Cassia. 

He used my first name. 

He never--never--used my first name. 

My heart lurched towards him, and I bit my bottom lip to silence the sob threatening to spill from my throat. 

In that moment, I wanted nothing more than to run back towards him and crash into his arms. I wanted to kiss him, and tell him that no matter what happened, I would never leave him. 

Because I didn't want to. 

Not at all. 

But I also knew that under no conditions could I continue to let him treat me like a second choice. Because no matter how hard I tried for him, I was never going to be good enough. 

"I'm sorry, Draco." Was all I could manage as I stepped forward again, every cell in my body screaming for me to turn around. And as the first of many tears fell onto my face, I wiped them away, reminding myself that this was the right thing to do. 

It was the right thing. 

...Right?


	20. Slow Dancing in The Dark

~two years before~

Two weeks passed by in the blink of an eye, and the snow outside only got thicker and thicker as it piled up around the grounds, coating the castle in a blanket of icy white and blue. 

Christmas music seemed to play every time I stepped out of my dorm, whether it was echoing from the great hall or maybe just in my head, but regardless, this was my favorite time of year. 

The only thing that would have made it better was if I'd had someone to share it with. 

But that someone was a person I couldn't--no, shouldn't--have.

Whether I should've been with him or not, though, I missed him. I missed him like a garden misses a good rain after a long drought. I missed him like children miss the feeling of Christmas morning the day after it passes. I missed him like he was dead. 

I missed him desperately. 

It was awful, having to walk by him in the halls and pretend that I didn't want to look up. That I didn't want to stare into his eyes, or let him wrap his arms around me and hold me close. 

I missed him more than anything, and ignoring that desperate plea to get him back took everything in me. 

But tonight was the night. The reason I'd realized that it couldn't possibly work between us. 

The Yule Ball. 

I had a dress, though it was nothing special. I looked good in it, I supposed, it's black fabric tight over my waist and hips and pulling in in all the right places. It fell all the way to the ground, fanning out slightly at my hips and making me look taller than I did in reality. 

It's neckline, straight across and low, left little to the imagination, and as I got ready, I found myself messing with how it fell across my chest every five seconds. 

I wore a thin-chained necklace to compliment the gown, silver and dotted with tiny clear gems. Maybe someone would mistake them for diamonds, but I was sure that they weren't real. It had belonged to my mother--the necklace--and according to my dad, she never spent money on anything unnecessarily extravagant. 

My hair was pulled up into a loose bun, shorter stands hanging down by the sides of my face and framing my complexion. I was putting on blush as I looked up into the mirror, staring at myself and imagining Draco standing behind me, his hands on my shoulders and a smile on his lips. 

But I brushed the thought away with a shake of my head, because I shouldn't have been thinking about him. Not anymore.

I sighed, standing up and slipping on my heels, grabbing my thin shawl and moving into the common room. Other Ravenclaws were scattered around the space, dressed to the nines and smiling excitedly. 

I wished that I felt the same, but my heart was weighed down in my chest by an invisible anvil, sucking every happy thought from my mind and making my shoulders seem ten times heavier. 

Walking down to the Great Hall didn't make me feel any better, though lively music was playing from inside and the space was decorated gorgeously. I'd never seen anything quite like it, and for a moment, I was suspended in awe. 

Everything around me looked as if it was covered in a thick layer of shiny ice, glittering and glinting like tiny silver stars. Giant, snow covered Christmas trees sat at the front of the room, stretching all the way up to the high, cathedral style ceiling. 

Students were packed throughout the space, talking to their friends and dates, huge smiles plastered across their faces. I was sure that out of the hundreds of people in the room, I might have been the only one not beaming with elation. 

I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I couldn't even try. 

Because what was there for me to be excited about?

Having to watch Pansy and Draco slow dance together? Having to watch her hold him close, and run her hands over his suit, and press his chest against hers? 

The thought of it made me sick, and I began to wonder why I'd even bothered to come. 

I crossed my arms over my chest, sighing and moving to a big round table near the side of the room. Pulling out a chair, I slumped down by myself, scanning my gaze over the scene in front of me and watching people start to gather near the entrance. 

The four Tri-Wizard Champions would be entering for the first dance soon, I assumed, but I couldn't care less. I had nothing to do with any of them, and my only distant connection would be through Draco's intense hatred of Potter. But we'd never talked too much about that, so again, I didn't care. 

I spaced out for a few minutes after that, my mind swirling with a million different thoughts and emotions. 

But the one consistent factor in every one of them was Draco. 

I couldn't stop thinking about him. About his face. His voice. His hands. His eyes. 

The way he'd called my name. 

I shook the thought away, brushing the loose strands of hair out of my eyes and sighing for the millionth time. 

Maybe I should leave, I began to consider. There was nothing for me here, anyway. What good would it do for me to stick around and watch everyone else have a good time when all I could think about was what I couldn't have? 

Or at least, what I didn't have any more. 

So with a screech of my chair, I stood up, ready to turn and leave the room before the dance could really start. But as soon as I did, whipping around to face the door, I saw him. 

Dressed in a black dress robe and pants to match, his blonde hair stood out like a star in the night sky, drawing the attention of anyone looking in his direction. His button up shirt was white underneath, with a matching bow tie around his neck, and after only a few seconds of me watching him, he grimaced, pulling at it annoyedly and rolling his eyes. 

And I hated--absolutely hated--how good he looked. 

His hair was shiny and soft, like he'd taken the time to brush through it carefully and make sure that every strand was in the right place. And he stood tall, his spine straight and proper as he looked over the room with his usual disapproving scowl.

But as soon as he saw me, which only took a few, heart shattering moments to happen, he froze, just like I did. 

Our eyes found each other in the same way they always seemed to, only this time, it was wrong. Painful.

But neither of us looked away, at least not at first. We just stared, both of our faces falling at the same time like we could read each others minds. And I suppose that in that moment, we were thinking the exact same thing. 

I wish I could be with you. 

More than anything. 

But the moment was fleeting, because seconds later, an arm came out of nowhere, hooking in his and pulling him away with a strong tug. 

Pansy. 

My heart sank as I saw her, and I had to turn away to keep myself from gagging. But out of the corner of my eye, I watched her as she pulled him along towards the entrance of the room, getting in position to watch the Champions walk in for the first dance. 

I didn't bother. 

And even if I'd wanted to, my legs were numb and weak now, forcing me to sit back down and rest my face in my hands, groaning softly and cursing myself for even thinking to show up to this thing. 

I wanted to leave. Desperately. But how would it look if I left now? I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of watching me run out of the room with reddened cheeks and watery eyes. I wouldn't let him feel like he'd won. Like he was right. 

I didn't want him to know how much I missed him. Because that could open some sort of door, and he'd find a way to snake back in. 

And part of me wanted him to. But I knew deep down that the longer I dragged things out the harder it would get in the end, and the more painful. 

It was already painful enough. 

I heard people start to whisper from behind me a second later, and I lifted my head from my palms, glancing over my shoulder at the entryway and watching the four Champions and their dates walk in one by one. They looked nice, I had to admit.

There was Viktor Krum, with Granger on his arm. She was dressed in a pink and purple dress, tight at the waist and flowing down past her hips. It was gorgeous on her, and I felt a smile come to my lips. She looked happy with him, and I was happy for her. I wondered what that was like. 

I saw Cedric Diggory, with his date Cho, his eyes focused intently on her as they walked out onto the dance floor, moving in synch as if they were perfectly matched for one another. They were a good looking couple, even though I didn't know either of them very well. 

I remembered the girls in the Great Hall talking about when Cedric had asked her to the ball all those weeks ago, the day that Pansy had slipped the Veritaserum into my drink. A shiver ran up my spine at the thought of it, and I grabbed a glass of water quickly off the table, sipping it and swallowing back the bile appearing in my throat. 

Potter and his date walked onto the dance floor next, and I stole a quick glance over at Draco, who's eyes thinned immediately as he passed, Pansy whispering something into his ear. A wave of nausea washed through me, and I looked away again, my teeth grinding together. 

Fleur and her date joined the group on the dance floor, or maybe she'd already been there and I just didn't notice. But regardless, the music started and they began to move in unison, though Potter looked like he'd never danced before, his feet lagging with the beat of the music as his date yanked him along.

And after a few moments of the four couples dancing alone, other people started to join them, smiles on their faces as they swayed to the rhythm hand in hand. 

And while I watched, my heart dropped all the way to the ground as I saw Pansy grab Draco's hand tightly in hers, yanking him forward onto the dance floor and guiding his other palm to her waist. His digits laid there, she began the steps of the dance, a giant smile on her face as she stared up at him, guiding him along beat by beat. 

And maybe I would have been able to handle that. Maybe. 

But what I couldn't handle was the fact that as soon as the movements started, the music consuming the scene, he smiled. 

Draco smiled. 

A big, real smile. 

And he wasn't smiling at me. 

I took another giant gulp of my water, swallowing aggressively and hoping that the nausea--which was quickly growing more intense--would fade away. But so far, that didn't seem to be the case. 

A new song started, and as it did, an idea popped into my head. 

I didn't have to sit here and look sad for the whole night. Why was Draco the only one that got to have fun? We weren't together. There was nothing stopping me from making my own plans. 

With a sudden surge of confidence, I stood, my chair squeaking underneath me as I shoved it back across the floor. And with a huff of determination, I scanned the room, looking for an eligible date to grab. 

And who did I find? No one really. That was, until I spotted someone I recognized, standing near the punch table. 

Neville. 

I'd only spoken to him a few times before, but he was sweet, and provided a low risk of rejection. He was perfect. 

I strode over to him with a new energy in my step, stopping behind him and clearing my throat. 

"Hey, Neville?" I tapped lightly on his shoulder, and he lifted his head from looking over the punch bowl, turning to face me with a smile. 

"Hey!" He pointed, "Cassia, isn't it?"

"Yes," I nodded, "I thought you might not remember."

"Of course I do," He continued to beam, "We were in basically every first year class together."

"Right." I glanced quickly over my shoulder, stealing one more quick glance at Draco. Again, he wasn't looking at me, and my stomach dropped, only spurring me on further to get my own revenge. I turned back to Neville, smiling flirtatiously. 

"Look, Neville, I'm not sure if you have a date already--"

"Oh, I do." He pointed over his shoulder, "I'm here with Ginny. She'll be back in just a minute." I tilted my head, my stomach dropping again. 

"Ginny Weasley?"

Neville nodded, and I sighed. 

"Alright," I faked a smile, beginning to turn away, "Sorry for bothering you."

"No, what were you going to ask?" He shook his head, looking apologetic. 

"Oh, it's stupid, really." I rubbed my temples with one hand, "I just--I just wanted to ask if maybe you wanted to dance?"

Neville paused, looking taken aback at my question before he laughed quietly--almost in disbelief. 

"Wow, yeah!" He nodded with a smile, "That sounds fun!"

"Wait, really?" My pulse picked up with a surge of excitement, "What about Ginny?"

"She's comforting one of her friends that started crying." He shook his head, "It looks like she'll be gone for a while, but while she's not here I suppose I'm free to dance with you!"

"Brilliant!" I exclaimed, my body tingling with nervous energy. I wasn't exactly sure how jealous Draco would be of me dancing with Neville Longbottom, but at least I was dancing with someone. 

Neville smiled, offering me his hand and bowing dramatically, which made me laugh the first real laugh I'd experienced since that night with Draco in his dorm. I'd missed the feeling, and I let a smile creep across my face, warming my cheeks with that familiar glow. 

We walked out onto the dance floor to join everyone else, and Neville placed one hand on my waist and kept the other in mine, leading me through the first few steps until I got used to the rhythm of it. 

We swayed back and forth, our feet moving in unison until I stepped on his a few times, making him laugh and wince under my heel as he readjusted my position. I was surprised, but he was actually a bloody good dancer, as if he'd been practicing for this very moment. And I was proud to dance with him. 

The song we'd started on eventually came to an end, and we sighed, stepping back and smiling at each other. 

And for a split second, I almost forgot about what I was there for--out on the dance floor. But the reminder hit me like a brick wall as my eyes fell on Pansy and Draco a little ways away, still standing close together with their fingers intertwined. 

I felt my face fall, and my shoulders slumped defeatedly with it, the energetic spark that had been there moments before draining from my body. The same empty feeling returned to my chest, and my smile faded as if it had never been there in the first place, a seemingly permanent frown replacing it. 

And like the kind hearted person he was, Neville noticed immediately. 

"Hey, are you alright?" He reached for my arm, drawing my attention back to him and his now concerned expression. 

"Oh," I shook my head, blinking the stinging tears back from the corners of my eyes, "Oh, yeah, yeah, I'm great."

"Cassia, what's wrong?" He persisted, and I sighed, swallowing the lump in my throat before I spoke again. 

"I just--I want to be with someone. Someone I can't have."

"Ah," Neville sighed, squeezing my arm, "I see. And who are you talking about exactly."

"No one." I shook my head, looking over towards Draco out of the corner of my eye, "He's no one."

"He doesn't seem like no one to you." He said softly, offering me a comforting smile, "Seriously, who is it? I promise I won't judge."

I scoffed. 

"You might with this one, Neville."

"Oh, it can't be that bad. Who?"

I paused, picking at my fingernails, painted black and shiny, before I let myself look back in Draco's direction with a painful, longing stare. And when I saw him again, I only felt worse, as his smile had grown since the last time I'd seen it.

"Wait--" Neville let his mouth fall open, his eyes wide, "Malfoy--Draco Malfoy?!"

"Yes," I hissed, motioning for him to quiet down, "Malfoy."

"Wow." He shook his head in disbelief, "I never would have guessed."

"Yeah, well I was surprised, too." I grumbled to myself, crossing my arms protectively over my chest and sighing. 

Neville watched me in silence for a moment, his expression still looking sympathetic as he observed mine.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I say you're way out of his league."

"Ha," I laughed weakly, "Thanks, Neville."

"I mean really," He continued, "A girl like you, falling for a guy like him? It's codswallop, if you ask me."

"Really?" I raised my eyebrows, punching him playfully in the arm, "Codswallop?"

"Codswallop." He nodded, "Simply nonsense."

"I agree." I laughed, feeling a little bit of the pain fade away. Good thing I'd chosen Neville as my dance partner. He would never know just how much his kind words meant to me. But slowly, the relief that he'd provided faded, and I was left again with the emptiness. "But, still..."

"I'm sorry, Cassia." He tilted his head, his expression sincere. "I wish I could help more."

"No, don't worry about it." I smiled weakly, "You've helped a ton. More than you know."

"I'm glad." He nodded softly. And just as he did, another song started to play. But it wasn't as quick or upbeat as the last one. It was slower. More romantic. 

Something to slow dance to. 

My heart sunk again, and I gulped, fighting back the flood of tears threatening to burst from my eyes and rush down my cheeks. But thankfully, Neville spoke again, interrupting my thoughts. 

"Hey, Ginny isn't back yet. Do you want to keep dancing?" 

I laughed quietly. 

"Oh, I don't know Neville--"

"Come on," He reached for my hand again, squeezing my palm tightly and smiling, "Let's show that ass what he's missing."

I laughed--for real this time--the darkness lifting a bit in my chest, and rolled back my shoulders with new energy. 

"Okay." I smiled, and Neville pulled me towards him, letting my head rest against his chest and swaying back and forth to the rhythm of the music. I listened to his heartbeat, steady and strong as it slammed in his chest, and I couldn't help but think about that night. 

The night that I'd laid on Draco's chest, my ear right up against his ribcage and listening to his heartbeat as it pounded through him. And the way I'd found myself wondering if it beat for me in that moment. If I'd affected its speed in any way. 

Maybe his pulse raced like mine did when we touched. Maybe he felt the same jittery, excited sensation when our eyes locked. Maybe he thought about me before he fell asleep at night, or in his dreams even when he tried not to. Maybe, but maybe not. 

The music swelled as it neared the bridge of the song, and my heart lurched with it, knowing that just across the room, Draco and Pansy were swaying slowly to the same melody, their fingers intertwined like vines and holding their palms together. 

And maybe that was why I looked over. Maybe if I hadn't thought that thought in that moment, then I wouldn't have seen it. But it didn't matter, because I did see it. And there was no taking it back. 

My eyes fell on the two of them, their faces just centimeters away and their eyes locked together like they had no ability to tear themselves apart. And with sheer horror in my irises, my limbs going numb and weak all at once, I watched as they leaned in slowly, their lids falling shut as their lips connected. 

And that was when the earth dropped out from underneath me. 

I heard myself let out a breath of disbelief, my hand dropping from Neville's as I stumbled away from his body and the support it had provided me. I think he said something to me. I think he tried to reach for my arm again. And I think I ran into him as I hurried past, feeling my head spin faster than it ever had before and gasping for air as a giant wave of nausea crashed over every inch of me. 

My entire body was vibrating with some sort of shaky feeling, as if my cells were trying to leave my skin, and I felt as if I was about to collapse with every step, the ground seeming to shake underneath me. 

And as I rushed towards the door, the walls feeling as if they were closing in around me, I stole one last glance over my shoulder. 

I don't know why I did it. 

Maybe I thought that if I looked again, I would see something else. Like the first time had just been an illusion--a trick that my mind was playing on me. 

But all I saw as I turned around was Draco's hands in her hair, pulling her face closer towards him and deepening the kiss--just like he used to do with me. And I saw them finally separate after what felt like ages, a giant smile on Pansy's face as Draco pulled away from her. 

And the last thing I saw was Draco as he turned carelessly over his shoulder, smiling until our eyes locked together once more, my heart shattering into a million tiny pieces. His expression dropped immediately, shifting from the happy one it had been just moments before to something between terror and sadness. 

His mouth fell open slightly. His eyes were empty. Hopeless. His shoulders dropped. I'd never seen him look so...awful. 

But I didn't look at him for very long. I couldn't bare to. 

I whipped away again, my face hidden from his view as the first few tears dripped onto my cheeks, a sob escaping past my lips before I slapped my hand over my mouth, drowning out the sound with my palm. 

I tore out of the room and into the hallway, gasping for breath as the feeling of pure pain began to grow, seeping through every vein in my body and reaching into every inch of my being. It was in my mind. In my body. In my nerves. 

I could feel it in every part of me, and by now I was shaking, heaving as I drew in ragged breaths, my mind fading in and out of understandable thoughts. 

I scrambled down the hallway, my watery eyes falling on a small doorway hidden in the wall. And immediately, I bolted towards it. 

The janitor's closet. 

Surely, it wasn't a place for students to go. But at that point, I didn't care. 

I swung the door open with shaky hands, rushing inside and collapsing on the ground in a heap of sobs and sniffles. My head was throbbing, and I pressed my palms up against the sides of my skull, crying harder and wishing that it would all just stop. That I wouldn't have to feel it anymore. 

And I didn't want to feel it anymore. But I did. And it hurt worse than anything I'd ever experienced. 

Brooms leaning against the wall clattered down on top of me as I sat there in a heap of depression and pitiful sniffling. Even I was starting to feel disgusted with my own behavior, and I rolled my eyes in the dark, groaning at the fact that I'd let a stupid teenaged boy make me feel this way. 

And not just any teenaged boy. Draco Malfoy. Of all people, I'd chosen Draco Malfoy to let break my heart. It was my fault, really. All mine. I'd seen this coming from a mile away, and still, I'd walked right into it. 

Because I thought maybe--maybe--I'd be able to fix him. God, what a stupid thing to think. 

I stood up, thoroughly disappointed in myself and my emotions. But when I reached for the door, someone opened it for me before I could complete the action, whipping the slab of heavy wood towards me so fast that I had to jump back to avoid to. 

I yelped, ready to curse out whoever it was--assuming that it would be some couple looking for a place to hook up. 

But instead, I was met with far too familiar gray eyes and pale skin, his blonde hair stealing my attention immediately. The air fleeted from my lungs, and I faltered, my muscles locking into place.

"Draco?" I whispered, only able to see the silhouette of his figure in the doorway. He nodded softly, letting go of the handle and stepping into the room in silence. And I was sure that over the faint sound of the music playing in the distance, he could hear how loudly my heart was slamming. 

"How--" I searched for words, quickly wiping the streaks of tears from my cheeks. "How did you find me?"

"I saw you run out." He breathed, stepping closer and making my pulse leap, "Following you here wasn't hard."

"Oh." Was all I got out as I strained my eyes to look up at him and his strange expression. It was one I'd never seen on him before, and I couldn't place it. I also didn't want to try. I didn't want to be seeing him at all, really. My stomach churned at the idea of his presence, and the reality of it was much worse. 

So I took a deep breath, tearing my eyes away.

"Well, it doesn't matter. You can go."

"Go?"

"Yes, go." I hissed, my cheeks sweltering with heat. "I don't want to see you right now. Or ever, really."

"Don't lie to yourself."

"I'm not lying, you ass." I whipped back towards him, my hands flying out in front of me and shoving him towards the door. That sentence itself was a lie, but I pretended, even in my own head, that it wasn't. "Get out."

He scoffed. I wanted to shove him again. 

"No."

"Are you seriously going to make me shove you out?" I snapped, and he only ignored me, stepping closer with that sway of his body that I always took as arrogance. 

"If that's what it comes to? Yes."

"Why would you even want to come in here?" I crossed my arms, "You have a date to attend to. Go snog her again and stop wasting your time on me."

"Woodwick--"

"Don't." I pointed an accusatory finger towards him, "Don't think you can just say my name and make it all better."

"I don't want to be with her. Ever."

"It certainly didn't look that way."

"I got caught up in the moment." He shook his head. "It wasn't her. It was the music, and the energy, and the--"

"That's the worst excuse I think anyone has ever come up with." I scoffed, and he stepped towards me again, making me flinch towards the back wall. "You're pathetic."

"I don't want to be with her, Woodwick. I don't."

"Good for you, then." I refused to meet his eyes. "I don't care. We're not together anymore. I don't even know if we ever were in the first place."

"Stop." He shook his head.

"Stop what?"

"Stop pretending that you don't care. I know you do. I saw the look on your face when you ran out."

"What you saw was a look of disgust."

"No," He breathed, shifting closer again and reaching for my arm. "No, it wasn't."

His cold hand closed slowly around my bicep, and for some reason I didn't pull away. A ghost of a smile crossed his lips. 

"You look beautiful, you know?" He whispered, stepping so close that our chests were almost pressed together. I just looked down at my feet, fighting a new round of tears back. 

"Shut up, Malfoy."

"Malfoy? So we're back on a last name basis now?"

"Yes." I hissed, slapping his hand from my arm. "We should have kept it that way from the start."

"No," He towered over me with those broad shoulders of his. "I don't think so."

For some reason, I'd started to crying again. But the kind of silent crying that almost hurt worse than the dramatic type. Because I wanted to hold it in. But the salty tears licked at my cheeks anyway, leaving my eyes bloodshot and achey. When I spoke again, it was choked. Strangled without any hands around my neck. 

"I don't care what you think."

"Woodwick," He noticed my change in tone, reaching for me again before I could yank away and grabbing around my waist. "Come here."

"No." I choked, but he ignored me, pressing my head against his chest with the back of his hand and holding me there. 

"Shhh." He shushed me quietly, and I was thrown off by his surprising level of understanding. I'd expected other things, but not this. This wasn't the Draco Malfoy I'd known for so many years. This was someone else entirely. 

And as he held me close, his hand stroking the back of my head, I caught myself thinking a foreign thought, but one that refused to relent from my mind. 

What had I done to him?

"What are you doing?" I whispered, to which he huffed, huddling me closer. 

"Do you really think I'm that much of an asshole that I'll just sit back and watch you cry?"

I paused, considering it. 

"Yes."

He laughed again. 

"If it were anyone else, you'd be right."

He held me in silence for a while, and I could hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, which I'd yearned to hear only minutes before. I counted the beats slowly. 1...2...3...4...

"Woodwick?" He broke the quiet, his hand trailing slowly down my back in a way that made me want to crumble. 

"Hm?"

"Dance with me."

I paused, pushing back from his chest with a confused expression. 

"Dance with you?"

"Yes."

"I--" I shook my head, biting my lip and wiping more tears away, "No. No. I don't want to go back out there."

"I didn't say anything about going out there." He smiled softly, "Dance with me. In here."

"In here." I said dryly, "In the broom closet?" Watching the way I cocked my brow, he huffed a laugh, wetting his lips seductively. I'd almost forgotten how nice it felt to kiss them. 

"Yes, in the broom closet."

I could still hear the music playing from the Great Hall, currently echoing a slow, somber song meant to sway lovingly to. I wasn't even sure that Draco Malfoy knew how to sway lovingly. Sure, we'd slow danced before. But that was a different time. A different circumstance. With different feelings involved. 

"I don't know, Malfoy..."

Draco sighed. 

"Well, I do."

Before I could protest, he reached forward, hooking his arm around my waist and pulling me to his chest. I complied, though I wore an expression of unhappiness, just to spite him. I didn't want him to feel like he'd won me over. Like he'd fixed things with a few nice words and pretty smiles. 

God, I hated how pretty his smile was. 

"Isn't Pansy missing her dancing partner?" I whispered defiantly, and Draco shushed me.

"I don't care." He grumbled, "Not at all."

"But--"

"Woodwick," He laughed to himself, holding my close with his hand at the small of my back. His other palm slid down my arm to find my digits, winding ours together and squeezing tightly. "Get this through your head. I don't care about her."

"You have a funny way of showing it." I huffed, and he breathed deeply, swaying me slowly to the distant, muted music. 

"How about I make you a promise?" He offered, leading my head to rest back against his chest. I complied with no resistance other than a soft grumble, giving in to my soft spot for the sound of his heartbeat in my ears. 

"Better be good."

"I promise to never touch Pansy again. In any way. Ever."

I paused, a smile creeping to my lips. 

"You can't promise that."

"Why not?" He began to sway me from side to side, our palms still pressed together and our fingers intertwined like thick vines covering a stoney pathway. 

"Because--you just can't. That's a ridiculous thing to promise."

"I don't care how ridiculous it is." He lowered his voice, a new tone echoing through his chest that made me quiver. "If it means that you'll stop worrying."

"I--"

"Shhh." He quieted me again, suddenly turning me with a sway and switching the direction we were facing. Now my back was towards the door, and he moved more gracefully, shifting from foot to foot in synch with the faint music.

We danced in silence for a few minutes, partially because I wasn't sure of what to say and partially because I didn't want my words to ruin the moment. 

And even though I hated to admit it, some of my anger was starting to melt away with every sway of our bodies, pressed so close to one another that I almost forgot which limbs were his and which were mine. 

We melted together seamlessly, as if we'd practiced the slow dance a million times before, and I couldn't seem to imagine a more comforting moment than the one I was experiencing: my head leaning against Draco's chest as his heartbeat pounded steadily, reminding me of something. 

He had a heart. 

A beating, emotion-feeling heart. 

And one that was just as capable of breaking as mine was. 

Sometimes I forgot about that. 

"Malfoy?" I finally whispered, and he sighed in response. 

"That's not my name."

"Draco." The word felt like home on my tongue, and I felt heat rush to my cheeks, my arms suddenly moving to wrap around his waist. His muscles tensed for a moment before relaxing again, his chin settling on top of my head and holding me in place. "You're not who I expected for you to be."

Draco didn't respond. At least not at first. He just breathed deeply, and I could just imagine his eyes closing as his chin rested on my head, his shoulders dropping calmly as he exhaled. 

"I know."

A second passed. 

"I'm glad."


	21. Bombarda

~two years before~

Draco's hand was around my throat. Tight. Squeezing the air from my windpipe and making me gasp for breath. 

And I loved every second of it. 

"You like that?" He hissed, his syllables sharp and pronounced as his lips left mine for a quick moment to drop next to my ear. "Huh?"

"Yes." I managed, my hands clasped around his wrist. "Fuck--I like it."

"You're driving me crazy." He continued, his tongue tracing the shell of my ear. I nearly melted against him. "Fucking insane."

"Yeah?" I felt him move down my neck with aggressive, open mouthed kisses against my skin. My nerves tingled--alive for the first time in weeks, and I let my eyes roll back in my head, savoring every second of his touch. 

"Yeah." His voice was a low huff. Almost a grunt. It made me lightheaded. "And you know what I want to do?"

My arms reached up, wrapping around the back of his neck as he pinned me against the wall. More brooms clattered down around us, but I barely noticed them. All I could focus on was Draco's voice in my ear. His hand around my neck. His breath on my skin. His lips, wet and plush, trailing over my body. 

My voice was the tiniest of whispers as I spoke again. 

"What's that?"

"I want to fuck you." He breathed, his hand leaving my neck and exploring down my chest. "I want to fuck you until you can't walk anymore. So, so fucking badly." 

Something inside of me snapped as soon as he spoke the words. Changed. Blossomed. 

I felt it surge up through my core like a tidal wave, crashing over me and washing in a feeling I'd only experienced a few times before. 

But never by someone else's hand. 

Something low, in between my legs, throbbed. 

"Draco..." My words trailed off before I could finish. But it didn't matter. I had nothing else to say. And I didn't need to. 

Luckily, in this situation, words weren't necessary. 

I was being hoisted up into the air a moment later, my legs wrapped tightly around his waist and his hand planted by the side of my head, flat on the wall. I was trapped, and his other palm was underneath my thigh, holding me in place as I was forced up against the wall. 

"I want you," He huffed, his face nuzzled in the crook of my neck and biting lightly at my skin. "I've wanted you for so fucking long."

"Fuck," Was all I could force out, pulling him closer and running my hands slowly through his hair and down the back of his neck. And suddenly, as he shifted against me, I could feel that unmistakeable hardness in his pants, my cheeks flickering with heat. 

"Draco--" I breathed, my heart starting to slam even faster that it already was. "Draco--stop."

"What, what?" He asked breathlessly, pulling back but refusing to stop kissing me, now on my chin and back to my lips. 

"Do you--" I paused, embarrassed, "Do you even have a condom?"

"No." He said quickly, "But I know a charm."

"A charm?"

He ran his hands over my chest, slowing down near my breasts and slipping the neckline of my dress lower and lower until my bare skin was exposed. Shivering, the instinct flashed through my mind to shove him away. To protect myself. 

But I didn't want that, I quickly realized. 

I wanted this. Now. With him. 

I wanted his hands on me. I wanted his lips to explore my body. I wanted his eyes to scan my figure. Every inch of my skin. 

I convinced myself that I didn't have to be afraid. 

"It'll work, I promise."

I huffed, rolling my eyes even though he couldn't see them in the darkness. 

"You're making a lot of promises tonight."

"And if I'm going to keep any of them, it'll be that one."

With a shaky, unsteady breath he pulled back, his eyes flickering hungrily over the skin he'd exposed. Immediately, my face went bright red. I was sure that he could tell, even under the makeup and darkness of the closet. 

Suddenly, I was self conscious of everything about me. 

What if my breasts weren't big enough? Were they the right shape? Did he even know what the right shape looked like? 

Then another thought, more terrifying than the others. 

Was this not his first time?

I sucked in a terrified breath, breaking away from his gaze and moving to cover myself with my hands. I was convinced by that point that he thought I was hideous, and his silent stare wasn't helping to ease my nerves. 

But before I could cover up at all, his hand shot forward, grabbing around my wrist with cold, harsh digits, his fingertips digging roughly into my skin. 

"Stop," He whispered, "What are you doing?"

My voice was trembling, along with the rest of my body.

"I--I've never done this before."

"Done what?"

God, I felt pathetic. 

"Shown anyone..."

He paused, thinning his eyes. 

"What...your tits?"

"Draco!" I smacked his chest, and he smirked, that devilish smile I loved so much crossing his lips. Even in the dark, it caught my eye, making my heart flutter just like it always did. Something else fluttered too. But from much lower than my heart. "But, yes."

Draco didn't speak for a moment, just watched me in painful silence, his eyes still scanning over the parts of me that I would have preferred to hide. But then he huffed, which only made my stomach churn more. 

"You want me to tell you how nice your tits are?" He raised a hand, ghosting his fingertips over the lines of my collarbone. I shivered. "Want me to tell you that they're the best I've ever seen?"

My chest felt pinched at the admission. 

"So...you've seen others?"

Draco sighed, tilting his head to the side with raised eyebrows. 

"You want me to tell you this now?"

"I want to know!" I protested, "And I think I have a right to." I paused, biting my lip as I waited for him to tell me no. But he didn't. So I continued, "How many?"

Draco scoffed, but I persisted, swatting at his chest. 

"Come on, seriously. How many?"

"Fine." He huffed, rolling his eyes, "Let me think about it."

"You have to think about it?"

"Jesus, Woodwick."

"Sorry, sorry..." I sucked in all the other questions I wanted to blurt out, realizing that I was standing right on the edge of ruining the moment. But I was too far in to give up now.

"So are you asking how many tits I've seen? Or how many people I've fucked?"

Pang. 

I gulped, feeling that horrible emptiness sink back into my stomach. I guess that it was jealousy. 

"Both?"

"Fine." He grumbled, "Tits? Five. Fucked? Two."

I gulped again, though there was nothing there to swallow. My mouth had dried up like a desert, and my lips suddenly felt chapped, too. I tried to sound as normal as possible when I responded, but it didn't come out quite like I'd wanted it to. 

"Okay."

"Okay what?" Draco ran his hand back over my collarbone, this time moving to trace down my sternum. "You're okay with that number?"

"Mhm." I nodded, way too dramatically. It didn't look convincing at all, not even to myself. "Totally fine with it."

He furrowed his brows. 

"I don't believe that."

"I'm telling the truth." I lied. 

"No you're not. You've got that look on your face."

I scoffed, rolling my eyes.

"What look?"

"The one you get when you're holding something in. You have a bloody awful poker face, you know."

"I do not."

"Hm." Draco thinned his eyes, "Spit it out, then. What's that overactive brain of yours thinking?"

"I--" I considered lying again. Saying that no matter how many people he'd slept with, it didn't bother me. That I could handle it, because now, he was with me. But I didn't think I'd be able to get the words out without gagging. So instead, I told the truth. "Are you going to leave me if I--if we--you know..."

He made a sound I couldn't identify, looking away with a shake of his head. 

"Why would you even ask such a stupid question?"

"Because I have an overactive brain. I overthink things until I explode. You said it yourself."

He huffed a laugh. 

"You never stop worrying, do you?"

"No." I sighed, "I don't."

Draco looked back to my eyes, his expression hidden in the darkness but positioned just close enough to my face that I could see a small smile. 

"No, I'm not going to leave." He said quietly, "I'm not the leaving type."

"You promise?"

"Yeah, Woodwick," He leaned forward, his lips ghosting against the tip of my nose, "I swear."

I nodded, pulling him to my chest and wrapping my arms tighter around his neck. He was stiff for a moment, before he melted, his hands falling back under my thighs and hosting me up against the wall into a better position. 

We just sat there for a while, motionless, his head tucked back into that spot in the crook of my neck and my face resting on his broad shoulder. I could feel him breathing, the slow inhales and exhales tickling the edge of my ear and making his ribcage expand and contract. 

My fingertips explored the nape of his neck at the same time, discovering that he made a little moaning sound every time I ran my fingernails through the base of his hairline and near the back of his ear. He would shiver, and nuzzle closer to me, which only made me do it over and over again until we couldn't physically get any closer than we already were. 

I was the first to speak. 

"I ruined the moment, didn't I?"

A tiny laugh tickled my throat from the plush cushion of his lips. 

"A little."

"I'm sorry."

"I told you before," He pulled back slightly, kissing right where my chin met my neck. "We have plenty of time to make up for lost moments."

If only that had been true. 

"I'm still sorry."

"Don't be." He let me drop to the ground, my legs feeling like jelly after being suspended in the air for so long. "How about this. Meet me in the Astronomy tower at midnight, tomorrow night." He paused, smiling, "We can finish what we started."

"I do not want to lose my virginity to you in the astronomy tower." I looked up at him disapprovingly, "It's cold, and uncomfortable--"

"You almost just let me fuck you in a broom closet, and now you're being picky about the Astronomy tower?"

"Yes, I'm being picky." I snapped back, "Now that I'm not caught up in the moment."

"I can get you caught back up in the moment." Draco suddenly shot back towards me, pinning me to the wall with a cold hand around my neck. I gasped, feeling his fingertips dig into my skin, silently hoping that they would leave bruises.

Because part of me wanted physical proof that this had really happened. That it wasn't just all in my head. 

I stared up at him through my thick eyelashes, blinking slowly and watching his face twist with hunger at my still exposed chest. 

"You don't have very much self control, do you, Malfoy?"

His hand trailed over one of my breasts, pinching my nipple between his thumb and pointer finger. I shivered, whimpering softly. 

"No." He breathed, "I don't."

He leaned down, his lips kissing softly at my sternum and moving down until he reached my breasts, the sensitive tissue tingling under his mouth. 

My breath skipped, which he seemed to like, and before I could process what was happening, his lips were closing around one of my nipples, sucking softly and making my body go weak against him. 

"F--fuck." I whimpered, my head falling back against the stone wall and spinning dizzily. He continued to move his mouth around me, smiling against my skin as his tongue flicked at my nerves--ones I didn't even know existed until that moment. 

My breath started to get short. Labored. I didn't know what was happening to me. For a panicked second, I thought I was dying. 

"I think I'm hyperventilating." I dug my fingers into his scalp, pulling at his hair. 

"You're not." He breathed around my nipple, huffing a laugh, "You're just turned on."

"Shit--" I gasped, "Keep going."

"I was planning on it, thanks." 

But suddenly, one of his hands was moving, down to the split in my dress that fell over my leg. I shivered pathetically as his fingertips slid underneath the fabric, coming in contact with my bare skin and trailing up...up...up...

I wasn't wearing any underwear. 

The realization hit me like brick wall, and my stomach lurched. 

The dress hadn't allowed it, with how tight it was over my hips, and I'd assumed that it wouldn't matter. But here it was. 

Mattering. 

And Draco figured it out milliseconds after I had. 

"Hell," He whispered, half-laughing, "You skipped a step for me."

"Shut up." I breathed, my mind spinning in realization of what was about to happen. 

I felt his fingertips touch me. Somewhere I'd never been touched before. I closed my eyes, as if that would make it less terrifying. 

"Fuck--" Was all I managed, suddenly forgetting half of the english language. 

"You're shaking again." Draco muttered, his fingers becoming more curious as they explored between my legs. 

"I'm fucking terrified."

"And wet."

"Fuck you." I bit my lip, every muscle in my body as tense as they had ever been. 

"Relax, Woodwick." He whispered, "It makes it easier that way."

"I can't." 

"You can." He brought his mouth next to my ear, biting lightly as he spoke. "Relax."

I took in a slow, shaky breath, trying my hardest to exhale and let all my anxiety flush out with it. And it worked a tiny bit, my muscles relaxing just enough for Draco to notice. 

"Good." He muttered, "Good girl."

My heart fluttered--and the other part of me followed suit, which Draco also noticed. 

"I'm not going to hurt you," He muttered, "Okay?"

"Okay."

"I promise."

"Okay."

His hand shifted again, and this time, I felt his fingertips somewhere else, right in front of my entrance. I clung tightly to the back of his shirt with one hand and to his hair with the other, unaware of whether I was yanking too hard. 

But he didn't say anything even if I was, just breathed deeply as he slid a finger inside, making me shiver so dramatically that my knees almost buckled. 

"Shhh," He quieted me as I whimpered, slipping a second finger in before I could process what was happening. I clenched unintentionally around him, and he smiled. 

"Shit--You're so tight." He mumbled, and I rolled my eyes. It was the only thing I remembered how to do. 

"Obviously."

A third finger joined the first two, and I winced, feeling one of his cold, silver rings touch me and my sensitive nerves. 

"You couldn't have taken your rings off?" I hissed, and he shook his head. 

"No. It would have ruined the moment."

"If I punched you right now, would that ruin the moment?"

"Why do you get so bloody bitchy when you're turned on?" He spoke into my shoulder, and I pressed my lips together, shutting up. 

He started to pump his fingers in and out in slow, dragged out movements. And each touch--each stroke made me unravel even further. 

It was clear--undeniably clear--that he knew exactly what he was doing. And he was proud of it.

Every time I whimpered--made the slightest noise, he would smile. And he would only move his hand in a way that drove me even closer to insanity, touching me in places I didn't even know existed. 

I was feeling things I'd never felt before. 

Experiencing thoughts I didn't know were possible to think. 

And when he suddenly twisted his fingers in a new way inside of me, sending a sensation though my body that I didn't know how to handle, I made a noise I didn't know I could make either. 

"Shhh," Draco laughed into my shoulder, "Someone's going to hear you."

"Right--right." I bit my tongue, choking back any other noises threatening to spill from my lips. "Sorry."

In the moments following, I began to wonder what had possibly gone wrong for all of those other girls, when they told me about being fingered. 

They said that the boys couldn't find the right things. Didn't touch the right places. Didn't know where to look. 

But as Draco's digits pumped in and out of me, sending shockwaves of pleasure through my core, I decided that they were all incredibly incorrect. 

I didn't know what was wrong with the boys that they'd been with, but Draco Malfoy knew exactly how to find the right things. He touched me in all the right places. He knew just where to look. 

And suddenly, his thumb was rubbing at something else, at the same time as the pumping of his fingers. And it made me crumble. 

I cried out, white flashing behind my eyes as I dug my fingertips into his scalp, breathing so heavily that I thought I might pass out. 

Draco snickered. 

"What did you do?" I huffed, and he touched it again, making me whimper in the most pathetic way. 

"Bloody hell, will you shut up and let me finish?" He muttered, and I let my head fall back, smacking against the stone wall. I barely noticed it, though. I was feeling way too many things to notice my skull hitting the rock. 

Draco rubbed again at the ball of nerves, making me shiver and moan, sounds that I hated myself for making. But he was doing something to me that I couldn't control, and I'd long given up on trying to fight back against it. 

I could feel a ball of tightness beginning to build low in my abdomen, like a dam of euphoria was about to explode inside of me, and I whimpered, pulling Draco closer with shallow, labored breaths. 

"I--Something's--I--"

"Shhh," He whispered, "Relax."

So I did. I relaxed. I let the feeling overtake me. I let it seep into every inch of my body. I let it built and surge until it felt like it was about to snap me in half, and I gasped, clutching into Draco's hair with violent tugs. 

"Fuck--"

"Cum for me." He breathed, a sentence I wasn't prepared to hear, "Now."

I didn't need for him to say it twice.

I snapped before I could take in another shaky breath, feeling my walls clench tightly around his fingers as I moaned, my hands shaking just as badly as my legs. My core surged with a feeling I'd never experienced before, and I could hear myself gasping as the sensation trickled into every inch of my body. 

Every cell. Every limb. Everything was tingling with the most intoxicating feeling, and I watched white flash behind my eyelids again, but brighter, a smile floating to my lips. 

And for the first time, I really was calm. I relaxed, along with the rest of my body, and I felt Draco's muscles do the same. 

He let out a tired sigh, his forehead resting against my shoulder as he slipped his fingers out of me, bringing them in front of his face and pausing. 

Through the light from under the doorway, I could just make out the glistening of his skin, wet and dripping. And with what he did next, my mouth fell open in shock. 

He brought his fingers to his lips, that same smirk I loved so much across his face as he slipped them back over his tongue, closing his lips around them and sucking the remaining liquid from his digits. 

He made a low, rumbling sound from his throat as he did, and I watched in awe as he removed spit covered fingers from his mouth, swallowing what was left of the liquid and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

He tilted his head to the side, stepping closer and resting his palms on my hips. 

"Why do you look so surprised?"

"I--I don't even know what facial expression I'm making."

"You look kind of...shocked?" He informed me, scanning his eyes over my face, "Kind of scared, and kind of happy. It's confusing, really."

I scoffed a laugh.

"Matches how I feel on the inside, I suppose." 

Draco furrowed his brows, his hands moving up my arms. 

"What, you don't regret it now, do you?"

"No, no." I shook my head, offering him a smile. "Not at all." I reached my hand up, letting it slide down the side of his face and end at his sharp jaw. His skin was cold, just like always, but I felt a hint of warmth in his shallow cheeks, the faintest peek of red showing through the pale white. 

A moment of silence passed, and I caught myself admiring the way his nose curved. The way his eyelashes fluttered so softly as he blinked. The way he wet his lips. His plush, soft lips. The loose strands of hair falling into his face and ruining his perfectly put together look. 

But I liked him better this way. 

Undone. 

Un-perfect. 

Just for me. 

"I'd like to stay in here forever," I started, "But you should probably get back. Pansy will start to wonder where you've gone."

"Hell, I forgot all about her." He muttered, and I laughed. 

"You better have."

"Bloody hell, how long have we been in here?" He furrowed his brows, looking suddenly concerned. 

"I don't know, about half an hour?" I guessed, shrugging. 

"Half an hour?" His voice seemed pinched now, and I tilted my head, confused at his shift in tone. 

"Draco, it's okay, just go back out."

"Yeah, yeah," He mumbled, his gaze leaving me distractedly as I pulled my dress back over my chest, tucking myself away and making sure that my clothes looked normal and not like I'd just been fingered for the first time in a broom closet. 

Upon inspection, I decided that I looked fine, and I reached for the door handle, glancing back at Draco and watching him rub worriedly at his temples. 

"What's wrong with you?" I whispered, and he just shook his head, waving me away.

"It's nothing." He smiled weakly, "I'll see you tomorrow night. Don't forget."

"Okay." I nodded, "Can't wait."

I slipped out of the room a moment later, making sure that no one was looking in my direction as I walked away from the door, trying to be as sly as possible. 

But somehow, I felt just as naked as I'd been moments before as people glanced in my direction, and with the quickening of my pulse, I decided to slip behind the wall of a passageway right by the entrance to the Great Hall. 

Regaining my composure, I could still hear what was going on in space outside the entryway, and I took a few moments to breathe, steadying the shaking of my hands and getting myself back under control. 

A few moments passed, and I was almost ready to step back out into the scene of the party--when I heard it. 

"Aye, Draco." A boy's voice called from right around the corner, and I tensed, sucking a breath in through clenched teeth and hiding myself further from view. "Where've you been, mate?"

"Went for a smoke." Draco's voice responded, low and rough, and I found myself questioning why it changed so much when he was around me.

"Alone?"

"Obviously."

"Hell, mate, you might want to tell Pansy that."

Draco paused, and my heart nearly seized up in my chest. 

"Why?"

"She's convinced that you ran off with that Woodwick girl. Imagine that? How bloody insane would that be? You and the Mudblood. I told her she was being loony, don't worry."

My stomach dropped at the mention of my name, and the use of the word "Mudblood". But I didn't really care what a random Slytherin asshole had to say about me. 

I just prayed that Draco would leave it alone. 

Don't respond. I begged him silently. Don't say something you'll regret. 

I heard him exhale. 

Don't, Draco. 

He scoffed. 

Don't.

"Why the fuck would she think that?" He hissed, "I would never."

The other boy laughed.

"That's what I told her."

"Imagine that?" Draco continued, "Me and Woodwick. It disgusts me just thinking about it."

"Makes me nauseated." The boy snorted, and I could hear Draco stepping towards him. 

"Let me be clear," He lowered his voice, making me whole body shiver with a sick feeling. The same words floated through my mind, even though I knew exactly what was coming. 

Don't, Draco. 

"If I had to lay a single bloody finger on that fucking cunt, I'd cut my arm clean off."

There it was. 

My memory of the whole night shattered like glass under a sledgehammer. And when it stitched back together in my mind, it was held together by black, sticky glue, seeping into the cracks of the happiest moments and coating them in an ugly, dark dye. 

"I believe you, mate." The boy slapped him on the arm, "I'd do the same."

"Right." Draco scoffed, "Let's go."

I heard their footsteps trailing away, growing gradually closer to the entrance of the Great Hall.

And for a second, I considered just letting him leave. 

Letting him get away with what he'd just said with no knowledge that I'd heard a word of it. 

But the longer I thought about it, the longer my anger built. The longer it brewed, and stirred in my gut until I felt like I was about to explode. 

So before I could tell myself not to, I drew my wand from the tiny pocket in the side of my dress--that up until this moment, I'd completely forgotten about--whipping out from my hiding place and pointing it straight at the wall in front of him. 

My eyes were thin, my lips pulled into a straight, tight line as I uttered the words. They left like a hiss. 

I sounded like the snake now. 

"Bombarda."

The wall exploded in a plume of stone and dust just as the syllables slipped from my tongue, Draco and the other Slytherin boy being thrown back with the boom and landing flat on their asses. 

My eyes went wide as I watched them struggle to their feet, their faces wild with confusion and anger as they whipped around, both scanning their surroundings with fury-filled glares. 

I tucked my wand quickly back into my dress. With all the touching we'd done, somehow Draco had still missed it. Maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't know that I had it on me. 

But when his eyes finally landed on mine, fuming with rage and confusion, he suddenly froze, the emotions leaving his irises faster than he could blink. 

And immediately, he knew what had happened. 

He knew that I'd heard what he said. 

That I'd casted the spell. 

That I'd thrown him back on the ground and humiliated him in front of everyone.

And most importantly, that I was deeply--incredibly heartbroken. 

Again. 

And as I turned away, the last thing I saw on his face was regret.


	22. I Lied

~two years before~

It was colder--much colder--than the first night I'd ventured up the winding staircase, my calves burning like fire by the time I reached the top. But the wind whistled in the exact same way as before, carrying a chill down my spine that I would never quite get used to. 

It seeped into every gap in my clothing, regardless of how many layers I piled on. Made me want to sit in front of a giant, roaring fire and let it warm my shivering hands and chattering teeth. 

The sun was already completely down, and stars had begun to peek out of the dark blanket of night. I followed the patterns they drew in the sky, my eyes falling on a shape I recognized. 

A curved line, high in the sky with a form all too similar to a snake's. 

I remembered the constellation well, and with the pit settling further down in my stomach, I thinned my eyes up at it's glinting path. 

Draco, it was called. 

I wanted to yank it out of the sky. 

"I didn't think you would come."

His voice startled me, but I didn't let it show, keeping my body completely still as I peered up at the constellation. 

"I shouldn't have."

I heard him shift. Step out of the shadows from the side of the platform. Dressed in a thick black coat, falling all the way below his waist with shiny silver buttons up the front, he stared towards me, his gaze drilling a hole in the side of my face. 

But I didn't look at him. 

A pause. Then a sharp exhale.

"I didn't mean a word of it."

My voice was as thin as the layer of ice on the railing. 

"I'm sure."

"What did you expect for me to tell him?"

"Exactly what you told him." I continued to look straight ahead, my lips barely parting to utter the words. "I expected you to tell him exactly what you told him. I just hoped that you might prove me wrong."

He made a huffing sound, as if what I was saying was some sort of lie. 

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you have no spine." I let my tongue hiss the words. I didn't care if they hurt him. Actually, I hoped that they did. It was his turn now. "You're a coward."

"A coward?"

"Yes, a coward." I stepped towards the railing, letting out a puff of breath and watching it turn to smoke in front of my face. "A spineless coward."

Draco scoffed, although somewhere behind the dismissive noise, I heard a twinge of something else. And it almost sounded like pain. 

"You could have just left it alone." I shook my head, "But of course, you didn't."

"Do you understand what they would do to me if they knew?" He stepped towards me from behind, and I prickled. "How I would be punished?"

"No," I breathed, "I don't understand."

"I'll explain it then," His tone was becoming gradually more frustrated, and I flinched, "I'd be kicked out of my house. Disowned by my parents. I wouldn't even be able to make it to my own dorm without being harassed."

"Then why?" My voice cracked, something I hadn't expected. But it happened. And then the tears started to well. 

"Why what?"

"Why did you let me get attached to you?" I spun around, my eyes glassy underneath the bright moonlight. I wasn't sure if Draco could see it, but by the way his eyebrows pinched together, I assumed that he could. "Why did you give me hope?"

"Woodwick--"

"No," I whispered, "Give me a straight answer. Why did you do it?"

"Because I wanted to be with you." He said weakly, sounding like it exhausted him just to speak the words. "And I couldn't keep myself away."

I tightened my jaw. 

Wanted?

"You've put me through hell."

"I wasn't trying to."

"Well you are."

"Bloody hell, Woodwick, just say you're done with me, then."

I froze. 

"What?"

"Say you're done." He repeated, his eyes vacant of any sarcasm. Any insincerity. "Tell me to leave you alone. For good."

"Wha--no." I shook my head vehemently. "That's not what I want."

"Why not?" He continued, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "I've put you through hell. You said it yourself."

"Draco, stop."

"No." He shook his head, "I'm not good for you. You're not good for me. I think by now we've puzzled that out."

My heart lurched.

What was he doing?

"Don't--don't say that."

"It's the truth." He looked away, exhaling quickly. False smoke blew from his nose, floating away in the wind. "Maybe we should stop lying to ourselves that it isn't."

I felt a lump form in my throat. I felt the dread settle in my stomach. I felt my chest seize up. 

I knew what was coming. 

"Wha--what are you saying, then?"

Draco paused. 

I watched his face fall. I watched the light drain from his eyes. I watched his shoulders slump. 

I watched him form the words on his lips. 

And I felt the hope drain from my heart. 

"We can't do this anymore."

Regardless of how long I'd prepared myself to hear it, it wasn't any less shocking. 

And it wasn't any less painful. 

I felt my knees go weak. I thought for a second that they might buckle. 

I made a sound. It was somewhere in between a scoff of disbelief and a sob. 

"What?"

"You heard me." His words held no emotion in them. I almost didn't recognize his voice. "Don't make me say it again."

"But...I don't understand."

"Don't understand?" Draco thinned his eyes. "What is there to not understand?"

"I don't want this to end," I felt my heart pull me in his direction, like a magnet to a piece of metal, and I stepped towards him tentatively, hoping with everything in me that he wouldn't finch away. 

He didn't.

"We just have to work harder to--"

"I don't want to work harder." He interrupted, and I froze again. 

"Wha--why not?"

"Because we shouldn't have to." His eyes dropped from mine. "It should be easy, and it's not. Not with us. We're bad for each other."

"Why says that it should be easy?" I took another step. "Nothing is ever easy."

"I'm not good for you, Woodwick." He suddenly stared back up at me, his eyes pinched with frustration. "Don't you see? You want me to work harder? For me to be a different person? Well I can't. Things will never change for us." He shook his head, huffing quietly, "Can you keep doing this over and over again?"

For once, I didn't know how to respond.

"I--"

"Exactly." He waved his hand dismissively, and my heart panged, urging me to say something else. To convince him that he was wrong. But no matter how hard I racked my brain, I found nothing worthy of words. 

The wind picked up around us, whipping through my hair and ruffling his white-blonde locks over his eyes. In the pale moonlight, I almost thought that I caught a glimpse of glassiness brimming at his waterline. 

He blinked it away as fast as it had appeared. 

"I'm never going to be what you want me to be."

"No, you don't understand. You already are--" I reached for his hand, but he recoiled faster than a snake strikes at its prey. His lip turned up into a snarl, and he stepped back, as if I'd tried to slap him. 

"I'm not." He seethed, "And you've got to stop telling yourself that one day I will be." He paused, seeming to grow angrier and angrier by the second, regardless of the fact that I wasn't arguing. 

"You can't fix me." He raised his voice, his face twisted with a pinched, furious expression. I just stared--wordless, in response. "No one can."

"I'm not trying to fix you." I whispered, and he just scoffed, turning away. 

"Sure you're not." 

"Draco..."

"You're just like everyone else, aren't you?" He huffed, "You think that underneath all of my defenses that there's some sort of kind, weak little boy, who would never hurt a fucking fly." When I didn't respond, he thinned his eyes, stepping closer. "Don't you?"

"I never said that."

"But you fucking thought about it, didn't you? Everyone does. No one considers that maybe this is just the way I am."

"What are you talking about?" I furrowed my brows, "You are kind. I know you, Draco, and I--"

"You don't know me!" He cried, stepping so close that my back was forced to press against the railing. So close that if there hadn't been one to block me, I would have fallen clean off the side of the tower. 

I shivered, his face just centimeters from mine. "You don't fucking know me at all."

I wanted to speak. I wanted to tell him how wrong he was--that I did know him. 

But in the few seconds it took me to summon the words, I stopped. 

Because what if he was right?

So I just said his name. So quietly that my voice almost got lost in the whispering of the wind. But he heard it. 

"Don't do that." He muttered, his syllables hissed and sharp. 

"Do what?"

"Say my name like that. Like it'll fucking fix things."

"That's not what I'm trying to do."

"Good." He snapped, suddenly pulling away and turning his back to me. I watched his spine curve with a shape of dejection, his shoulders slumped and his head hung. 

And in the moments of silence that passed between us and the glimmering stars overhead, he looked utterly and completely hopeless.

"I'm never going to stop hurting you." He finally spoke, his tone having softened a bit. "I can't allow this to keep happening."

"Why can't I decide for myself when I've had enough?" I furrowed my brows, "Draco, I want to be with you--"

"Well maybe I don't want to be with you." He whipped back around, his irises ablaze. "Is that bloody clear enough for you? Maybe I don't want you anymore."

I just stood there, blank faced as his words seeped in, letting the venom of his syllables travel through my veins until they reached my heart. But still, the pain was delayed. I didn't feel it yet. 

All I could do was stare, like I'd lost all ability to comprehend what was happening in front of me. 

And in my shock induced coma, I didn't think to tell him how badly I wanted him to stay. Looking back on it now, I could have tried so much harder. 

But I didn't. 

By the time I finally came back to my senses, Draco had turned away again, stepping towards the winding staircase with his long legged strides and pulling his jacket tighter over his chest. He ran a hand through his hair, and I only realized that it had been shaking when I relived the memory in my head. 

And as he paused at the very top step, all I could think to say was:

"You told me that you weren't the leaving type."

Draco let out a long, slow exhale, his shoulders descending even further with it, and glanced the tiniest bit over his shoulder. Just enough that I could see the glimmer of the full moon in the reflection of his pale blue eye. 

"I lied." He muttered, "Guess that should just give you another bloody reason to hate me."


	23. So Much Less Alive

~two years later~

~year 6~

Bloody hell. 

I pulled at the waist of my skirt, shifting uncomfortably on the poorly cushioned bench seat. 

It was too small now, just like I thought that it might be. After all, I'd grown a bit over the summer, and not only did it not fit as well around my waist anymore, but my ass had become just a bit more...pronounced?

Yes, that was the word for it. 

Pronounced. 

In any case, the skirt barely covered me now, and as the train's brakes creaked and moaned to a slow, gradual stop, I wished that I'd just bought a new one. 

"Cass, I told you already, it looks fine." Hermione was eyeing me from across the tightly packed cabin, her gaze barely lifting from the thick book cracked open over her lap. 

"We're here now, you know." I ignored her comment, standing up with a sigh and reaching for my bag, "You can put the book away."

"I know that I can," She smiled to herself, still glued to the page, "But why would I want to?"

I huffed. The strap of my bag felt heavy over my shoulder.

"You're impossible."

Ron scoffed next to me, seeming to agree. But Hermione just lifted her nose, raising her eyebrows with a sort of dignified expression. 

"I know."

She was infuriating. But I was glad to have her. 

At least now I wasn't so alone. 

Ever since she'd found me sobbing in the bathroom during our fourth year, she'd stuck around. And I was more than happy to have her by my side. 

I supposed that I had him to thank for getting to know her, though I didn't really want to thank him for anything. Anything at all. 

Because he'd ruined me. 

Hell, even after two years, the thought of him made me blood boil. Made my hands clench in and out of fists. Made the hair on the back of my neck stand up straight, my heart beginning to slam. 

And also ache. 

No, I wouldn't acknowledge that. Not for a second. I didn't even let myself think his name anymore, much less say it out loud. I didn't let it settle in my mind, and find a place to slip into, and haunt my dreams and nightmares. 

No, I wouldn't allow it. Because he didn't exist to me anymore. Just like I didn't exist to him.

By the time I shook the thoughts away, Hermione had finally closed her book and stuffed it into her bag, standing with a long sigh. She reached for the door a moment later, sliding it open with Ron close by her side and stepping out into the thin hallway. 

"Where's Harry?" She muttered, glancing down the row of cabins. 

At the mention of his name, I began to wonder the same thing. 

Where was Harry? He'd left the cabin just as I'd been stepping inside, his eyes clouded with a worried expression as I moved past him. I said hello, but it didn't seem like he'd heard me. 

"He's probably already on the platform," Ron replied carelessly, rolling his shoulder, "Come on."

Hermione seemed to hesitate for a moment, the cogs in her brain turning just like they always did. But after a few seconds she brushed her worried expression away, turning and following Ron down the hall with me on their heels. 

The air was slightly chilled as I stepped out onto the platform, though it was still late summer, and I paused, feeling goosebumps skitter over my arms. 

"You two go ahead," I called to the both of them, who had turned to look back at me, "I'll be right along."

They nodded as I swung my bag off my shoulder and onto the ground, falling to one knee as I unzipped the metal binding and revealed my belongings inside. 

I rolled my eyes at myself, remembering that for some stupid, idiotic reason, I'd buried my sweatshirts all the way at the bottom of my suitcase. I was trying to save space or something. Whatever. By now I was regretting it.

And as I sorted through the layers of neatly folded clothing, I finally found what I was looking for. 

I pulled it out with a frustrated yank, throwing other clothes onto the ground in the process and only further inflaming my nerves. 

Bloody hell, today was not my day. 

I forced the sweatshirt over my head, adjusting it in dramatic, overexaggerated movements and sighing as I finally got it to look the way I wanted. 

Ron and Hermione were already long gone by the time I got everything tucked back into my suitcase, and I was less than excited about the fact that now I would probably have to share a carriage to the castle with someone I didn't really know, much less like.

But then again, I didn't like many people. 

I slung the strap back over my shoulder, getting ready to head towards the gates with new warmth swaddling my torso. But just as soon as I'd taken a step in that direction, a train door swung open in front of my path, nearly smacking me in the face and making me jump back with a yelp.

"Bloody hell," I huffed breathlessly, clutching my chest, "Christ, will you watch where you're--"

The door swung back closed with a harsh snap, and in its place, stood a tall, shadowed figure, the person's back turned to me. 

But the way that they stood. The way their white hair gleamed even underneath the dark night sky. The way their shoulders tightened at the sound of my voice. 

I knew instantly who it was. 

My heart stopped in my chest, and I wasn't sure that I ever wanted it to start beating again. 

He turned so gradually that I was sure he was moving in slow motion, and by the time his gaze finally fell on me, I'd already thought up about a hundred spells that I wanted to cast on him.

Maybe I would throw him back onto the train tracks. 

Maybe I would turn his bones to jello. 

Maybe I would wipe his memory. Make him forget that he ever knew my name. But I was almost sure that he'd already forgotten it without my help, anyway. 

I looked him up and down, half with a face of disbelief and half with an expression of disgust. I'm not sure which he thought it was, but he matched it immediately, his lips curling down into a deep frown and his eyes casting over with a deep, seemingly endless darkness. 

It made me shiver. 

And that was when I noticed his face. Not his face itself, but how bloody awful he looked. At least compared to the way I used to know him. 

To anyone else, he probably would have looked completely normal. Attractive, even. But to me, I noticed every slight change. Every tiny difference since the last time I'd been this close to his face. And I couldn't help but furrow my brows as I examined them. 

It was like he hadn't slept in months, dark, nearly purple circles settled underneath his eyes and an exhausted, drained look weighing down his irises. His skin was even paler than before--something I didn't know was possible for someone who wasn't dead--and his frown was so deep that I thought his lips might get stuck that way forever. 

Shame, I caught myself thinking, he always used to have such a beautiful smile. 

He was dressed in an all black, expectedly expensive looking suit, a leather briefcase clutched tightly in his fist. And his hair had changed, too. It wasn't the same swept-over-the-forehead-bowl-cut that it had been before. 

Now it was combed back neatly along the sides of his head, letting no strand fall out of place as he sucked in a sudden quick breath, exhaling through his nose as he stared down at me. 

But he said nothing, just like I continued to stay mute. Not necessarily because I had nothing to say, but because in the shock of the moment I'd suddenly forgotten how to conjure the english language to the tip of my tongue. 

All I knew in the moment was that I hated--absolutely bloody hated--that he still had that kind of effect on me. 

"Still clumsy, are we, Mudblood?"

His words caught me off guard, and I felt my eyes go wide. The Mudblood thing barely even phased me, but what did was the way his voice had changed so dramatically from just two years before. 

It was so much deeper. So much less...alive. 

It sounded like all of the emotion had been sucked from his syllables, and for some reason, it made my stomach churn uncomfortably. 

Sure, I'd heard him speak in passing when I would walk by him the halls. Or from behind me in certain classes when he would joke around with his friends. But I hadn't actually spoken a word to him since that horrible night in the Astronomy Tower, and the shift in tone was shocking. Almost too shocking. 

It was like he wasn't even the same person anymore. 

That glimmer in his eyes that I remembered so fondly was gone. Completely. 

It was like someone had turned a diamond back into a lump of coal, and I was left staring blankly into their vast expanse of darkness, searching for any kind of sign that the person I knew was still in there. Somewhere. 

But if he was, I didn't find him. 

"Uh--I--no." I shook my head, clearing my throat and stepping back. Only then did I notice how close I'd been to him. Too close. "No, I'm not."

"Hm." He made a small, dismissive noise, to which I glared with thinner eyes, trying to distract my own mind from the strange thoughts and feelings that were filtering back into my consciousness. Ones that I hadn't felt since forever ago. 

But I didn't have much time to stew on them, because almost as soon as he'd grunted so damn snidely, he turned away, barely giving me more than a look up and down before his eyes were torn away from mine. 

I watched breathlessly as he strode towards the pathway to the carriages, his stupid, shiny briefcase swinging by his side like he was some sort of rich businessman. Well, he was rich. But that was besides the point. He still looked bloody stupid. 

Or at least I convinced myself that he did. 

It made it easier to be critical. 

I scoffed. 

Leave it to Draco Malfoy to come back to school dressed in a full suit and tie. I supposed the Slytherin robes weren't good enough for him anymore. Nothing ever seemed to be good enough for him. 

I readjusted my bag over my shoulder before I trailed slowly behind him, keeping my eyes on his tall figure and realizing with a pit settling in my stomach that we were both headed for the same place. 

I just prayed that we wouldn't end up in the same carriage. But based on my seemingly lifelong streak of bad luck, I was sure that we would be. 

I only noticed the footsteps sounding from behind me after a few moments, and I turned over my shoulder to see Luna and Harry approaching quickly, Harry's jacket sleeve pressed against his nose. And as they grew closer, I suddenly noticed that the fabric was soaked in blood. 

"Christ, Harry," I whispered as he came up by my side, his blue eyes focused on the ground, "What did you do to yourself?"

"I didn't do anything." He mumbled, his gaze lifting the tiniest bit and landing on something up ahead of us. 

And part of me knew--just knew--what he was looking at. Or who, rather. But something in my body wouldn't let me follow his eye line. For some reason, I wanted to stay willfully ignorant for just a little bit longer.

We walked in silence down the path to the carriage pickup, minus the tiny little comments I would make about our surroundings. I'm sure that they both thought I just couldn't handle the quiet. 

But really, what I couldn't handle was my own mind, starting to spin with those thoughts that I desperately didn't want to think. Talking about other topics was the only thing that kept me from dwelling on them. 

We finally reached the gates after too long of walking with heavy luggage, and I sighed, throwing my bag onto the ground and stretching my back. 

But to my immediate disappointment, I realized that there were no carriages left to ride in. We'd just missed the last one, and I groaned as Professor Flitwick asked Harry for his name to check off of the list, the tall, metal gates sealing closed behind us. 

I'd nearly forgotten that Luna was there until she came up by my side, sighing softly and brushing a piece of her long, blonde hair out of her eyes. 

Wow, I caught myself thinking, her hair is almost the same color as--

"Nice face, Potter."

His voice caught me off guard, and I turned towards the source of it with a frown, my gaze settling on his figure in the distance, shadowed by the darkness of the night. But by his side, I could just faintly make out Professor Snape's robed shape, his presence seeming odd. 

Why was he there?--I wondered--with Draco? 

Something about it just made me uneasy, or at least made the sight of it stick out in my memory.

I wondered whether Draco's parents had hired him to be some sort of butler. I snickered at the thought of it. It wouldn't be too out of character for them. 

To my great relief, Draco didn't walk back to the castle with us, or follow along closely at all. I didn't know where he'd disappeared to, really. After the little comment he made to Harry, he'd seemed to vanish into thin air. I guessed that he'd gone with Snape, wherever he'd taken him. 

It didn't matter, though, because I shouldn't have even been thinking about it. About him. And I wasn't going to. Not anymore. 

Oh, if only I had coin for every time I made that promise to myself. 

I'd be just as bloody rich as the Malfoys.


	24. A Second Shadow

The Great Hall had that same warm, comforting feeling that it always did, calming my prickling nerves immediately as the smell of the evening feast entered my nose. 

I spotted Hermione, Ron, and Ginny a moment later, their faces immediately falling as they noticed Harry and his bloodied nose next to me, Hermione's mouth opening wordlessly.

But she wasn't wordless for long.

"Where have you been?" She whisper-hissed as we slumped down at the table. When Harry didn't respond, she continued. "What happened to your face?"

"Later," He huffed, holding the cloth to his nose, "What've I missed?"

"Sorting hat urged us all to be brave and strong in these troubled times," Ron replied, leaning towards him, "Easy for it to say, huh? It's a hat, isn't it?"

I smiled. Leave it to Ron to make the most dreadful of realities a joke.

But before I could respond to him, I spotted movement out of the corner of my eye, and turned to see Professor Dumbledore rising to the front of the room, his hands resting on his owl-crested podium.

"Very best of evenings to you all," He began, students' voices dying down as his first few words echoed off the stoney walls. "First off, let me introduce the newest member of our staff: Horace Slughorn."

Dumbledore motioned back towards the teachers table, leading our eyes towards a man I'd never seen before, seated right next to Snape near the right end of the row.

"Professor Slughorn, I'm happy to say, has agreed to resume his old post, as potions master." Dumbledore continued as the man stood sheepishly, waving to the crowd of students before he slumped back down into his chair. "Meanwhile, the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts, will be taken by Professor Snape."

The second he'd uttered the words, the whole room seemed to erupt in whispers and chatter, students' eyes going wide all at once. Mine did the same.

Snape, finally getting the job he'd always wanted.

It almost felt....wrong.

For some reason, my gaze was suddenly drawn towards the Slytherin table. Maybe I just wanted to watch how Draco would react, seeing that he suddenly seemed so close with Professor Snape. But strangely, when I found him in the row of black and green robed students, he didn't share the same expression as everyone else at all.

While all of his classmates around him seemed delighted by the news, Draco's face was blank, his chin resting upon his palm and his lips laying flat, missing a smile or even a frown. 

If anything, his expression was one of--dare I say it--sadness? Or maybe just indifference. But regardless, he looked as if he was off in another world in his own mind, the reality of the Great Hall a distant sound in his ears. 

And as I stared at him for just a little too long for comfort, I wondered what he was thinking about. 

"Now as you know," Dumbledore interrupted the hushed conversations passing between students, "Each and every one of you was searched upon your arrival here tonight, and you have the right to know why. Once, there was a young man, who like you, sat in this very hall. Walked his castle's corridors. Slept under its roof. He seemed to all the world, a student, like any other. His name?" 

He paused, tension seeming to seep from his syllables, "Tom Riddle."

The whispering in the room picked up again, and this time, a strong shiver ran up my spine. Just hearing his name--well, his old name--made me immediately nauseated.

"Today of course, he's known all over the world by another name. Which is why as I stand looking out upon you all tonight, I'm reminded of a sobering fact. Every day. Every hour. This very minute, perhaps. Dark forces attempt to penetrate this castle's walls."

His tone was calm. Like what he was saying was in any way normal. I noticed that my hands had begun to shake.

"But in the end, their greatest weapon?" His old, misty eyes crossed over the room. Slowly. Like he was trying to sort out who could be trusted and who couldn't. I was sure that I knew exactly where Draco would land. "Is you. Just something to think about."

Right, like we would be able to think about anything else.

"Now off to bed." He nodded, offering the weakest of smiles, "Pip pip."

Students began to rise from their seats, conversations picking back up like they normally did. I seemed to be the only one still suspended in fear.

"That was cheerful." I heard Ron huff as he stood next to me, and I nodded, my mind beginning to swirl and churn with panicked thoughts.

The reality of V--

Bloody hell, I couldn't even say his name to myself back then. Even after years and years had passed, it was still difficult. But I managed. 

The reality of Voldemort's return had always been on the forefront of my mind, ever since I'd grown closer with Hermione and the boys. It consumed them, rightfully so, and I was usually left feeling horrible for them and the pressures they faced. 

Especially for Harry. He seemed to have the whole world resting on his shoulders, and it was like people just expected him to be okay with it. 

I rose from my seat, swinging my legs over the bench and onto the floor, feeling a strong shiver course through me. And that was what reminded me to look for him. 

I found him in the crowd immediately. His hair was like a beacon, I swore. And it only took me a split second to stand up completely, fixing my hair and robes--for some reason--and moving towards him. 

Not in any way that he would notice, of course. I wasn't trying to have a confrontation. Part of me just wanted to look at him for a little longer, to see what else had changed. 

So far, it was seeming like a long list of things. 

I wondered if the boy I'd known even existed anymore. 

"Cass, are you coming with us?" Hermione grabbed my arm as we exited the Hall, and only then did I notice that instead of turning in the direction of the rest of the group, I had unknowingly stepped in Malfoy's direction. 

"Oh, um--" I paused, coming up with a quick excuse, "I'll meet you guys in a bit. I want to go check on something."

"Check on what?" Hermione thinned her eyes suspiciously, and I blurted the first thing that came to my mind. 

"I'm on my period." I lied, "Have to deal with it. Now."

"Oh!" She whispered, smiling, "Sorry! Alright, we'll see you later."

"See you, 'Mione." I nodded as she let me go, turning to follow Harry, Ron, and Ginny towards the Gryffindor common room. I watched her leave, and made sure that she'd rounded the corner before I turned back around to search for that white-blonde hair. 

And I found it seconds later. Thank god he was taller than most everyone in his house. 

He was about to round a corner, and I stepped slyly after him, blending into the crowd of students and ducking down lower than I stood normally. Not that I really needed to. Unlike Draco, I wasn't taller than anyone around me. Not by a long shot. 

The group led me down a set of stairs, then another, then another, before people started to break away from the hoard, going down different passages and leaving the mass of students smaller and smaller. 

I could still see Draco up ahead, surrounded by a group of Slytherins that I recognized. 

Blaise Zabini, for one, his buzzed haircut shaved close to his scalp. 

Goyle, next to him, just as disgusting as ever and seemingly even more so this year. He'd gotten a bit taller, his voice deeper as he laughed loudly through the hallway, slapping Draco on the shoulder and making him flinch. Then he was promptly shoved away, right into the wall. 

I felt a smirk cross my lips. That was one thing about Draco that would never change. 

And lastly, I spotted the one person that I wished I never had to see again. Pansy, right by Draco's side, her dark hair shining underneath the candles mounted on the stone wall.

I felt my wand tucked into my robe. My hand closed around it. A quick flash of a thought crossed my mind. I remembered a certain hex. 

Then I reminded myself that I wasn't here to be seen, much less get into a duel. 

Though I didn't know why I was there, exactly. 

"What's up your ass today, Draco?" Goyle scoffed from up ahead of me, recovering from his meeting with the wall. "You've been a bloody menace since we boarded the train."

"Oh, sod off." Draco hissed in response, "Maybe I'm just sick of looking at your ugly face. Ever considered that?"

Goyle just went silent in response, seeming to satisfy Draco with his reaction. Note taken, I thought to myself, Draco had clearly reverted to his earliest impulse: being an ass. 

The group I'd been hiding in the midst of only continued to dissipate the deeper I ventured into the depths of the castle, and I cursed under my breath as the last few students trickled away down a new corridor, leaving me out in the open behind the Slytherins. 

That wouldn't do, so I slipped behind the corner of a wall, watching them from a ways away as they descended another staircase, towards the Dungeons. 

Being careful of how loud my footsteps were, I trailed behind silently, ducking behind indents in the wall every time someone even began to look over their shoulders. 

I successfully followed them all the way down to where I knew the entrance to the Slytherin dorms was, holding my breath as they paused near the hidden doorway, laughing about something I hadn't picked up on. 

Well, everyone expect Draco. As he turned in my direction, all I observed in his expression was more blankness. Or if anything, annoyance. He crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes focused elsewhere as his friends slipped through the false wall. 

But instead of following them, he hesitated. 

Pansy was the last left after everyone else stepped through, and she turned to him, her hand moving to rest on his bicep. Something in my chest seized up. 

"Come on, Draco." She cooed, "We'll have a fun night. You've just got to relax."

"Relax?" He hissed, flinching away, "You really don't know anything, do you?"

"Draco--"

"Leave me be," He turned away from her, her face falling with his words, "I'll be along. Later."

Pansy hesitated, seeming to want to protest more, but after a moment, she gave up. Her shoulders dropped, and she sighed. 

"Fine. Your attitude is revolting, you know." She quipped as she sunk back into the wall, leaving Draco scoffing and rolling his eyes at no one. Or at least no one he could see. 

I wondered what would happen if he realized that I was watching. 

I couldn't imagine that it would be any kind of positive reaction. 

But before I could think about it for too long, Draco began to move again, this time back in my direction with long, determined steps. I panicked suddenly as he neared my hiding spot, and I sunk back further into the indent in the wall, the same one I'd hid in two years ago, I realized. 

The night that I'd snuck down to the Slytherin dorm, waiting for Draco to let me inside. Something in my chest throbbed with dull pain. 

Somehow, I could still remember the feeling of being inside his room. The smell of it. The softness of his sheets. The candle burning on his bedside table. 

I remembered everything like it had only just happened. 

Two years seemed like an eternity when I really started to think about it. 

I was ripped from my memories as Draco stormed past me, completely ignorant to the fact that I was hidden only feet away from him. So close that I could have jumped out and pressed the tip of my wand to his neck. 

I could've made him beg for mercy. 

I could have forced him to apologize. 

I could have done it. 

But I didn't. 

He stomped away down the hall, back up the stairs with huffed breaths and balled fists by his sides. I followed once he was a safe distance ahead, like a second shadow as he moved through the dungeons, my footsteps moving at the same time as his to keep the sound to a minimum. 

I followed him down corridor after corridor, rounding corner after corner until we came to a familiar place, my stomach sinking. 

Snape's classroom.

I recognized it immediately, my nerves prickled at the idea of the professor's presence. 

I watched Draco pause in front of the door, turning over his shoulder with thinned, tired eyes. 

I noticed again how exhausted he looked--like he hadn't slept well in months. And part of me pitied him. A bigger part than I would have liked to admit. 

Once he'd decided that the coast was clear--it wasn't--he reached for the handle, swinging the heavy door open and slipping inside with a flick of his robes. 

The wooden slab slammed shut with a loud crack, concealing Draco behind its surface and cutting him off from my view. But I stood there, hidden, for a little longer anyway.

I wanted to be sure that he wasn't about to come back out into the hall just as I was making my escape, and after waiting for a few minutes in silence, my heart racing faster than I'd realized in the heat of the moment, I decided that I was in the clear. 

So with a brave step out into the open, I bolted back the way I'd come, trying to remember exactly which path I was supposed to take to get back to my dorm. 

A few hallways later, I reached a spot that I felt safer standing in, and I stopped, leaning forward and panting with my hands on my thighs. I was winded after running so fast, but all I could think about as I collected myself was: why the bloody hell Draco was spending so much time with Professor Snape?

I mean, he was the Head of Slytherin and all, but seriously. Who really wanted to spend one on one time with Snape? I could think of a list of about a hundred people that I would rather be alone with, but I supposed that Draco and I had very different taste in the kinds of people we befriended. 

Maybe they ran some sort of how-to-be-a-complete-asshole club together. I wouldn't be too surprised if they did. 

As I snuck back towards my dorm, I tried to shake the image of Malfoy's face from my mind. The image of his tired eyes. His sunken cheeks. His pale skin. How sick he seemed. 

And most of all, I tried to shake the feeling dwelling in my chest. 

The one that I hated to feel. 

The one that urged me to try to help him.


	25. Amortentia

It felt strange to be back. 

Back in the same place I'd been years before.

And the last place I ever wanted to be. 

"Attention to detail in the preparation is the prerequisite of all planning," Professor Slughorn was talking, as he had been for the last few minutes. But in all honesty, I wasn't listening to a word of it. 

Because standing only a few feet from me was the one person I needed to stay as far away from as possible, and it didn't help that he kept playing with the sliver rings around his slender fingers, drawing my eyes to the flash of metal every time. 

He looked exhausted again, and I was beginning to think that he wasn't even trying to get any sleep.

I was sure that his mood would improve at least a little if he just got a few hours of good, uninterrupted sleep--

"Ah!" Slughorn's voice suddenly piped up a few octaves, drawing my attention back to his lecture, "Harry, my boy. I was beginning to worry."

Harry?

I glanced towards the entrance to the classroom, seeing that both Harry and Ron had appeared there, smiling sheepishly towards the professor, who seemed more than delighted at their presence. 

"You've brought someone with you, I see."

"Ron Weasley, sir." Ron stepped forward, "But I'm dead awful at potions. A menace, actually, so I'm probably just gonna--" He made an attempt towards the door, but before he could escape, Harry stepped in the way of his path. 

"Nonsense, we'll sort you out. Any friend of Harry's is a friend of mine." Slughorn beckoned them towards the rest of the group. "Get your books out."

"Sorry sir, I haven't actually got my book yet, and nor has Ron." Harry piped up. 

"Not to worry, get what you want from the cupboard."

I watched them scramble towards the wooden bookshelf as Slughorn stepped around the table, motioning to a few different brewing potions along its surface. 

"Now, as I was saying, I prepared some concoctions this morning. Any ideas what these might be?"

Instantly, Hermione's hand shot up from beside me. I rolled my eyes, huffing a laugh. 

"Yes, miss...?"

"Granger, sir." She stepped towards the table, her bright eyes scanning over the black and gray caldrons. She settled on one. One that I immediately recognized with the sinking of my stomach. "That one there is Veritaserum," She began, "It's a truth telling serum."

Suddenly, I felt like I was about to vomit. 

It's funny how certain things can transport you instantly back into a memory. Or in my case, a nightmare. 

I only wondered if the two other people in the room who would know why I was so nauseated were thinking about the same thing. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Pansy smirk. 

But Draco did nothing. Didn't even lift his gaze from where it was set on the ground. It didn't even seem like he'd heard her. 

"And this is Amortentia," Hermione continued, "The most powerful love potion in the world."

A pause, as if she didn't know if she should say whatever she was thinking next. 

"It's rumored to smell differently to each person, according to what attracts them. For example, I smell...freshly mowed grass, and...new parchment, and...spearmint toothpaste." She drew in a sharp breath, cutting herself off abruptly and sinking back towards the group. 

I watched her cheeks go pink, her eyes avoiding mine with obvious effort. 

"Now Amortentia doesn't create actual love, that would be impossible." Slugnorn picked back up his lecture, "But it does cause powerful infatuation or obsession. And for that reason--"

A group of girls from the front of the class began to step towards it, their noses raised. I wondered if they couldn't smell it from where they were standing.

If not, then why was what I smelled so strong?

"--It is probably the most dangerous potion in this room."

Slughorn closed the cauldron's lid with a clink of metal, and the girls seemed to suddenly snap out of their trances. 

"Sir, you haven't told us what's in that one." One of them chimed in. I recognized her. Katie, something. 

"Ah, yes." Slugnorn reached down, unscrewing a tiny vial filled with clear liquid from its perch. "What you see before you, ladies and gentleman, is a curious little potion known as Felix Felicis. But it is more commonly referred to as--"

"Liquid luck." Hermione interrupted.

"Yes, Ms. Granger. Liquid luck. Desperately tricky to make. Disastrous should you get it wrong. One sip and you will find that all of your endeavors succeed."

Finally, he moved. 

Draco's eye line raised slowly from the ground and up to the tiny vial in Slughorn's grip, his face still as blank as ever but his interest seeming to be peaked. 

"At least until the effects wear off." The professor walked back around the table. "So, this is what I offer each of you today. One tiny vial of liquid luck, to the student who, in the hour that remains, manages to brew an acceptable draft of Living Death--recipes for which can be found on page ten of your books."

I listened to the sound of turning pages around me, but I didn't bother. It wasn't like I was going to brew it correctly anyway. It was a miracle that I even managed to get into this class.

"I should point out, however," Slughorn lowered his voice, "Only once did a student manage to brew a potion of sufficient quality to claim this prize. Nevertheless, good luck to you all."

I cracked open my book, for appearances. 

"Let the brewing commence!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bloody hell, this shit smelled awful. 

It fit its name perfectly, I supposed. 

"Living Death".

I certainly wanted to die after sniffing it a few too many times from over at Harry's brewing station. 

He was the only one seeming to succeed in mixing it correctly, which appeared to be getting under Hermione's skin more than anyone else's. Her hair was a frizzy mess after a long while of careful instruction following, and her eyes were wide with unfaltering determination and, now, gradually building anger. 

I snickered as I watched her shake a tube of some sort of powder into the cauldron, making a sound of defeat as the liquid inside only bubbled aggressively. 

"It's not supposed to do that." She squeaked with exhaustion in her tone, shoving a clump of her hair out of her face and pinning her hands down on the table. 

Harry just smiled to himself, tracing his finger along the line he was following in his book, which looked to be much older and worn out than the rest of ours. Plus, it had little scribblings of someone's handwriting in it. 

"Harry," I leaned towards him, my eyes thinned, "What's--"

I was interrupted suddenly as Hermione's potion made a loud hissing noise, causing her to yelp and back away from it with frustrated, labored breaths. She really looked like she was about to snap, and I waited with wide eyes for her to do just that. 

But she didn't. She only walked back up to the cauldron with a tightened jaw, picking her ladle back up again and returning to the same vigorous stirring. 

Only then did my attention turn back to Draco, the person I was trying my hardest not to think about. Clearly, it wasn't working. 

I could still see him out of the corner of my eye, his shoulders haunched over his station and his gaze focused down on his brewing potion. 

I couldn't see whatever was inside his cauldron from my distance, but I was sure that he was making it correctly. He'd always been good at potions. 

He was the top of the class two years ago, I remembered with a smile. I could still hear his voice in my mind of when he'd said it, all too proud and braggy.

"Professor Slughorn?" Harry's voice raised from beside me, and I looked back to see him holding his hand up into the air, catching Slugnorn's attention from across the room. "Sorry, sir, but I think I've done it."

Slughorn's eyes went wide, and he rushed hurriedly over to Harry's station, smiling. 

"Have you, my boy?"

"I think so."

"Well, let's see then, shall we?" He nodded vigorously, producing a small red leaf from a tiny jar in his pocket and raising it above the churning black liquid. With a flick of his wrist, he dropped it down into the cauldron, gasping as the tiny blood colored flag disintegrated immediately into the darkness, a foul smell rising from it at the same time. 

I gagged, but Slughorn only beamed.

"Merlin's beard," He exclaimed, "It is perfect! So perfect I dare say one drop would kill us all!"

Harry smiled to himself, while Hermione only stared with furrowed brows and crazed eyes, her hair even frizzier than just minutes before. I stifled a laugh, and she turned her gaze to me, sending me silent curses through her facial expression. 

Harry was awarded the liquid luck minutes later, as promised, and he tucked it away into the pocket of his robe, the rest of the class staring at him with jealous gazes. 

I stole a look over at Draco while everyone else was distracted, who was standing lazily near the side of the room, his hands in his pockets and his robe removed. All that was left over his chest was his black sweater, hanging loosely from his thin figure, his green tie tucked underneath the collar of his white undershirt. 

And strangely, instead of glaring at Harry with his usual nasty expression, he looked less than interested in the scene that was playing out before him. Again, it was like he wasn't even there. Not in his own mind at least. 

It was starting to bother me; the fact that I had no idea what he was so consumed with. And it wasn't like I could just ask him. 

Well, I could have. But I wasn't in the mood to get shoved into a wall, or hexed, or thrown down a set of stairs. For now, I supposed I would rather just remain wondering. 

"Brilliant," Slughorn clapped his hands together happily, "That's all for today. Class dismissed."

"Thank god," Hermione breathed, her arms crossed tightly over her chest and her eyebrows pinched together so closely that I thought they might thread together. 

"Relax, 'Mione." I nudged her shoulder, "You can't win at everything."

"That's where you're wrong." She scoffed, "I can. Today was just a fluke."

"Mhm." I agreed sarcastically, "Come on, I'm tired of smelling that potion."

"Well, I'm sick of smelling Malfoy's bloody cologne." She shot back, her frayed nerves increasingly evident, "What does he do, bathe in it?"

I laughed loudly before I could stop myself, drawing looks from people around us as they filed towards the door. But the only person I really cared about didn't bother to glance up at all, his eyes still on the ground. 

I began to think that they were glued there permanently. 

We all walked towards the door, filing out in pairs and making our ways into the dimly lit hallway. But as soon as we got to the base of the staircase to leave the Dungeons, Hermione stopped. 

"Ugh, I've left my bag again."

"Again? When was the first time."

"Earlier, in the library," She rolled her eyes, "This has not been my day." She turned around, stepping back down the hallway. "Wait for me?" She called over her shoulder, and I nodded, holding my books to my chest and sliding to the side of the stairway to let people by. 

The rest of the class passed me gradually, gossiping and laughing as they stepped up the staircase, largely ignoring my presence except for a few brief looks out of the corners of their eyes. But I didn't care.

Not about any of them, at least. There was only one person I was looking for, and I couldn't seem to find him in the crowd of students. 

I stepped out into the middle of the staircase, stretching up onto my tip toes to see if he'd already made it to the top of the stairs without me noticing. But when I didn't find him there either, I fell back onto my heels, frowning. 

Strange. It was almost as if he'd disappeared into thin air--

"You're in my way."

I spun around, my heart skipping at beat as I stared up at his face, blank and expressionless but now accompanied with a slight frown. He caught me off guard, which was embarrassingly evident as my cheeks went bright red. 

"Oh--I--" I stuttered, my tongue suddenly incapable of forming words.

"Are you going to move?" He raised an eyebrow impatiently, glancing around me as if he had somewhere important to be. I scoffed. 

"Yes." I muttered, sliding to the side and averting my gaze as Draco stepped by, shaking his head like I'd done something awful to him. He was just as dramatic as I remembered him. 

A pause. Then I decided that I wasn't finished speaking. 

"I thought you would be the one to win the liquid luck." I called, and he stopped a few steps above me. "Aren't you supposed to be the top of the class?"

Draco didn't speak for a moment, his spine straightening before he sucked in a slow, deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling with it. 

"I suppose that things have changed."

"Yeah," I huffed, "They definitely have."

I watched as he turned just slightly over his shoulder, glancing down at me through empty eyes. 

"You haven't."

Pang. 

It shot through my chest like a bullet, lodging itself right next to my heart and refusing to dissipate.

I nearly lost my balance, choking out a single word. 

"What?"

"Changed. You haven't. Not at all."

I cleared my throat, as if that would make me sound less nervous. 

"How do you mean?"

Draco turned around, his hands still in his pockets as he scanned me up and down. The frown was still on his lips. Part of me hoped that it had gone away. 

"Never mind," He dropped his shoulders, "I don't know what I was thinking anyway."

I opened my mouth to say something else, but before I could, he was walking back up the stairs, his head falling forward like he didn't even have the energy to raise it. 

My heart slammed as I watched him leave, urging for me to call after him again. To keep him in the conversation. Because maybe if I could just get him to talk to me for long enough, then maybe--just maybe--I'd be able to get something out of him. 

I don't know what I wanted him to say, exactly. Just something. Anything.

I even missed the Draco that would insult me in the halls, and call me foul names, and tease me brutally to no end. I didn't know that him being suddenly silent would be somehow worse than his usual verbal abuse. 

I guess it's true what they say. You never really appreciate something until it's gone. 

But something suddenly snapped me from my thoughts. 

It wasn't Hermione, finally walking back up behind me with a loud sigh. And it wasn't even the sound of an explosion from back in the potions classroom, the foul smell of a failed Living Death potion wafting through the hallway. 

No, it was another smell that caught my attention. One that was much sweeter. Much more intoxicating. 

It seeped through my airway, making me pause with a deep breath and a warm feeling in my chest. 

I recognized it immediately. 

It was the same smell I'd identified earlier, when Slughorn had showed us the Amortentia potion. The one that had been so strong that I'd been able to smell it from a good ways away. 

"Did Slughorn open the Amortentia potion up again?" I turned to Hermione, letting her hook her arm through mine as we stepped up the stairs. 

"No, I don't believe so." She sighed, sniffing with a crinkled nose, "All I can smell is Malfoy's bloody cologne."

Pang.


	26. Anyone Fancy a Butterbeer?

The snow had started to fall quicker than I'd expected for it to, though I wasn't opposed to it at all. Because the snow brought things with it. Things I loved. 

Like the feeling of the roaring fireplaces as they warmed my cold hands. The taste of hot tea and cocoa, and frosted pastries with all sorts of spices. The sound of Christmas music, and warm scarves, and soft blankets. 

And certain fond memories that I hadn't quite been able to let go of. 

Plus, to make things even better, in a shocking turn of events, I wasn't failing at potions class nearly as badly as I'd expected to. 

I still wasn't good, mind you, but definitely not awful either. And Slughorn had definitely noticed. 

His praise was nice, and while it was a relief to finally have a potions professor think highly of me, it wasn't what I was most concerned with. 

"For weeks, you carry around this book, practically sleep with it, and yet you have no desire to find out who the Half Blood Prince is?" Hermione's voice brought me back to reality, prodding at Harry for what seemed like the millionth time, our boots crunching against the freshly laid snow as it continued to fall around us.

"I didn't say I wasn't curious, and I don't sleep with it." Harry protested, and I laughed, nudging him in the arm.

"I'm not even in the Gryffindor dorm, Harry, and even I'm sure that you do."

"Well, it's true." Ron interjected, "I like a nice chat before I go to bed, and all you do is read that bloody book. It's just like being with Hermione."

She rolled her eyes.

"Well I was curious." She said, "So I went to--"

"The library." We all cut her off, and Harry added on, "And?"

"And nothing." She scoffed, "I couldn't find a reference anywhere to a Half Blood Prince."

"There we go, that settles it then." Harry stuffed his hands into his pockets, the wind picking up around us--colder and faster. But our conversation was interrupted suddenly as the sound of Professor Slughorn's voice came from up ahead.

Through the wind and the snow, I couldn't quite hear him. All I was able to make out was "Three Broomsticks".

Suddenly, Harry spoke again.

"Does anyone fancy a butter beer?"

Bloody hell, he didn't have to ask me twice.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The pub was small, but charming, and as we stepped inside, shaking the snow off of our shoulders and knit caps, I scanned my eyes over the scene, checking to see if I knew anyone there. Slughorn was sitting up at the bar, expectedly.

It seemed that we'd followed him here, after all.

But the only other familiar faces I noticed were those of Ginny and Dean, in a booth tucked in the corner of the room. They looked happy together, and I was glad. Ginny deserved someone that would treat her well.

I almost began to walk towards them, but Harry stopped me.

"No, not there," He grabbed my arm, "Over here."

"Alright, alright." I shoved him away, "I'm coming. Sod off."

We walked over to the table that Harry had picked, but when we began to reach for chairs, that didn't seem to satisfy him either.

"No, sit beside me," He instructed Ron, who sighed, moving around to the other side of the table.

"Okay?"

"Something to drink?" A waiter came up to us as we were getting settled, Hermione answering for the whole group.

"Um, three butter beers and some ginger in mine, please."

And it was a good thing she did, because just as soon as I'd sat down, turning over my shoulder to scan the room once more, I saw him.

His bloody white-blonde hair caught my eyes before I could avoid it, and I sucked in a quick breath, turning back around as quickly as possible and slamming my lids shut.

I didn't think that he'd seen me, thank god, and I wasn't about to make myself more noticeable. So I slumped down, my face hidden in my arms as I leaned over the table.

"What are you doing?" Harry questioned, but I just shushed him, waving him away with a flick of my hand.

"I told you to sod off already, didn't I?"

I'd only gotten a quick look at him, but in those few split seconds I'd observed that he was dressed just as nicely as usual. Maybe "nicely" wasn't the word, on second thought. More like, he was dressed "like an absolute prick." Yes, that was it. A prick.

A handsome prick.

No. I shook the thought away.

His black turtleneck looked utterly stupid, and the two layers of suit coats over top didn't help to allow him to blend in any further with his less-fancy surroundings. Though I was sure that that was pretty much the point of it all.

The Malfoys weren't supposed to blend in with the masses.

He looked a tiny bit more rested than last time I'd seen him, but still not healthy. And I couldn't help but notice that he'd begun to form worry lines on his forehead. I remembered well how he used to scrunch up his face when he didn't like something.

And Draco Malfoy didn't like a lot of things. 

It was only a matter of time before he wore himself out, making expressions like that all day long.

I followed Harry's eye line as I finally lifted my head back up from the security of my arms, tracing them back to exactly where I knew they would lead. 

To Draco, who was slipping into a back room of the pub, the heavy wooden door closing behind him with a loud click.

Ron and Hermione had started talking about Ginny and Dean, Ron shifting uncomfortably in his seat and asking to leave as they began to kiss, obviously unaware of the fact that Ron was sitting just a room's length away. But I was still so distracted by Draco's presence that I barely noticed them.

Why the bloody hell was he here? I asked myself. The Three Broomsticks didn't seem like his type of place, and I propped my chin up on my fist, furrowing my brows as I contemplated his possible reasoning.

But suddenly Harry was waving to someone, and I turned over my shoulder, watching Professor Slughorn approach from behind us.

"Hey, my boy." He greeted Harry, his tone even more cheery than usual. Maybe the pint clutched loosely in his fist had helped to contribute.

"Hello, sir. Wonderful to see you."

They shook hands.

"And you, and you." Slughorn smiled.

"So, what brings you here?"

"The Three Broomsticks and I go way back, further than I care to admit. I can remember when it was one broomstick--" He laughed tipsily, accidentally careening his drink to the side and splattering it all over my lap. I yelped, but he didn't seem to notice.

"Listen, my boy," He continued, "In the old days, I used to throw together the occasional supper party for the select student or two. Would you be game?"

"I'd consider it an honor, sir." Harry replied, nodding. Slughorn smiled, turning towards Hermione and me.

"You would be welcome too, Granger." He gestured towards her, and then me, "And you as well, Woodwick."

We both raised our eyebrows in unison, nodding.

"We'd be honored, sir."

"Splendid!" He raised his glass, "Look for my owl." A pause, then turning slowly to Ron, he nodded. "Good to see you, Wallenby."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The scream made us all stop dead in our tracks.

"I warned her!" The girl standing next to the body cried, her voice threaded with sheer, unfiltered terror, "I warned her not to touch it!"

The snowy path back to the castle was blocked off by her now disturbingly twitching figure, her red jacket standing out against the backdrop of the blinding white. She looked dead--utterly defenseless against whatever force had overtaken her body, now jolting back and forth along the icy ground beneath her. 

I watched in horror as her corpse shot up into the sky, yanked by invisible strings and hoisted high above our heads. And with an unyielding, horrific intensity, her mouth was forced wide open soundlessly, her arms out to her sides as she floated in the middle of the swirling blizzard. 

Then suddenly, as if some force above had thrown her back down to earth, she crashed into the ground, her eyes wide open and her head twitching from side to side. But the rest of her body had fallen limp once more, and we were left standing wordlessly in front of her, our limbs frozen in fear and shock. 

"Don't get any closer!" A voice came from behind us, and I whipped around, my heart slamming almost painfully. Hagrid appeared through the blinding snowstorm, his face twisted with worry as he stepped towards the girl's body. "Get back, all of you."

We stepped away, letting him pass and get to her side. 

"Now, now, now, now..." He muttered to himself as he gathered her in his arms, cradling her frame close to his chest and looking back towards us. 

"Do not touch that, except by the wrappings." He nodded at the small brown package that I now discovered on the ground below us, a long, metal necklace sprawled out across the cracked-open casing. "Do you understand?"

We all nodded, but Harry knelt down closer to it, inspecting it further as it glinted up at us. 

And in that moment, I had no idea what had happened or what that necklace had done to the girl. 

All I knew then was that there was a strong, overwhelming sense of evil radiating from its metal frame, and I wanted to be as far away from it as possible. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You're sure Katie did not have this in her possession when she entered the Three Broomsticks?" Professor McGonagall turned towards us, the necklace laid out on the table behind her as her eyes clouded over with worry and thought. 

"It's like I said," The girl standing next to me replied, "She left to go to the loo, and when she came back she had the package. She said it was important that she deliver it." 

"Did she say to whom?"

The girl paused, but I already had a sinking feeling in my stomach of what the answer would be. 

"To Professor Dumbledore."

"Very well." McGonagall sighed, "Thank you, Leanne. You may go."

She turned to leave, her head hung as she hurried by us. I could see her red sweater out of the corner of my eye as she fled the scene, and I could only imagine how she was feeling. If I'd had to see something like that happen to one of my friends...I wouldn't ever be able to forget it. 

"Why is it," McGonagall's voice drew me back to the front of the room, "That when something happens, it is always you three?" 

"Believe me, Professor," Ron shook his head, "I've been asking myself the same question for six years."

McGonagall seemed to forget about my presence for a moment, before glancing back towards me and sighing. "You're not usually involved in their shenanigans, Ms. Woodwick."

I offered up a weak smile, shrugging. 

"Wrong place at the wrong time, I suppose."

McGonagall smiled with a shake of her head. 

"If I had a Galleon for every time I heard that--" Her eyes were suddenly drawn to the other end of the room, and she sighed with relief. "Oh, Serverus--"

Snape's tall, dark figure appeared next to me before I could blink, and I flinched the tiniest bit, his gaze crossing over me like a laser. But he moved on in seconds, striding up to the table and producing his wand from a pocket in his robes. 

Without a single word, he flicked it towards the necklace, raising it into the air as the metal suddenly started to screech with awful, high pitched noise. It wasn't very loud, but it was enough to make me quiver, and I looked away, disgusted by it and what it had done. 

"What do you think?" McGonagall turned to him, and he twisted the necklace in front of his face. 

"I think Miss Bell is lucky to be alive."

"She was cursed, wasn't she?" Harry interrupted, "I know Katie, off the Quidditch pitch, she wouldn't hurt a fly. If she was delivering that to Professor Dumbledore, she wasn't doing it knowingly."

"Yes, she was cursed." McGonagall breathed, and Harry was quick to respond. The words spilled from his lips like they'd been waiting there for weeks. 

"It was Malfoy." He stated, and I felt myself freeze. 

I tried not to react outwardly, though I was sure that if anyone had been focused on my facial expression at that moment they would have seen right through me. I'm pretty sure my face turned as pale as Draco's. 

Slowly, Snape and McGonagall turned around, their brows furrowed almost identically. 

"That is a very serious accusation, Potter." She looked him square in the eyes, but Harry didn't flinch. 

"Indeed." Snape added, "Your evidence?"

"I just know." Harry said just as confidently, and the tiniest of smirks appeared on Snape's lips. 

"You just...know."

Harry said nothing.

"Once again, you astonish with your gifts, Potter. Gifts mere mortals can only dream of possessing. How grand it must be," He paused, lowering his voice, "To be the chosen one."

The tension in the air was evident, and it made the hair on the back of my neck stand up, as if someone was about to snap at any given moment. But no one did, and a hushed deadness consumed the scene, leaving the slamming of my heart the loudest identifiable noise.

"I suggest you go back to your dormitories." McGonagall's words finally sliced through the thick blanket of quiet. "All of you."

My walk back to the Ravenclaw common room was spent in dead silence. And not only because Harry, Ron, and Hermione had turned down another hallway to head towards Gryffindor, leaving me alone. 

It had more to do with the fact that I couldn't bring myself to forget about what Harry had said. 

It was Malfoy. It was Malfoy. It was Malfoy. 

I just kept hearing it, and every time I did, I only felt more nauseated. 

Because the more I thought about it, the more it began to make sense. 

Why else would he have been at the pub? I knew without a doubt that it wasn't his scene. Not at all. And he'd looked more than suspicious standing there and slipping behind that door. I hadn't seen him holding the package, but maybe I just hadn't looked closely enough. 

The only thing I couldn't piece together in my mind was: why?

What would his motive have been? As far as I knew, Draco didn't have anything against Katie Bell. Or Dumbledore. But then again, I supposed that I didn't know him very well anymore. 

Not at all -- I quickly corrected myself --you don't know him at all anymore. 

I didn't even realize that I'd arrived at my common room until the door practically smacked me in the face, and I stepped back with a gasp, narrowly avoiding the wall colliding with my forehead. 

And just as I was about to mutter the password, something--some instinct--told me to turn over my shoulder. And then that same impulse told me that I needed to go back down the stairs. 

It was strange. It felt like there was an invisible rope tied around my waist, yanking me back down the staircase and moving my feet without permission. But I was walking before I could stop myself, and as I reached the bottom of the stairs, I glanced around, my nerves tingling with some sort of anticipation. 

And to my utter disbelief, I saw something. 

It was quick, and gone in the blink of an eye, but I recognized it immediately. The brief sighting of a flash of blonde and the shoulder of a black suit was all I needed, and I sucked in a quick breath, feeling my heart lurch in my chest. 

I watched him turn a corner down the hallway and disappear from sight, headed somewhere I didn't know. And part of me wanted to go after him. 

But I didn't. 

Because when I tried to step forward, my feet wouldn't move, and I dropped my gaze, the sight of Katie's twitching body reentering my memory. 

And I knew in that moment that whether it was true that Draco had done it or not, I couldn't ask. I couldn't even look at him. 

Because I knew deep down, though it made me feel more sick than anything ever had, that Harry was right. 

And it was unavoidably evident to me now, that the Draco Malfoy I knew was as dead as Katie Bell might have been.


	27. Dinner Party

"So tell me, Cormac, do you see anything of your uncle Tiberius these days?"

God, I hated this dinner party already.

"Yes, sir. In fact, I'm meant to go hunting with him and the Minister of Magic over the holidays."

"Oh, well, be sure to give them both my best."

The clinking of spoons against glass bowls was the most aggravating noise I thought I'd ever listened to, and each time someone hit the edge with their silverware, I felt my muscles tense.

"What about your uncle, Belby?" Slughorn continued to ask around the table, "For those of you who don't know, Marcus' uncle invented the Wolfsbane Potion. Is he working on anything new?"

"Du'now'," Marcus mumbled back almost incoherently, his mouth half full with a healthy scoop of ice cream. "Him and Dad don't get on. Prolly' cause me dad says potions are rubbish. Says the only potion worth having is a stiff one at the end of the day."

"And what about you, Miss Granger," Slughorn was all too happy to move on to someone else, "What exactly does your family do in the muggle world?"

Hermione paused, shifting uncomfortably in the chair next to me.

"My parents are dentists." She said, being immediately met with confusion from everyone else but me. I smiled to myself. "They tend to people's teeth."

"Fascinating," Slughorn raised his brow, "And is that considered a dangerous profession?"

"No," Hermione huffed, "Although, one boy, Robbie Fenwick, did bite my father once. He needed ten stitches."

I laughed, but no one else did, and Hermione turned to me with reddened cheeks, widening her eyes as if to send me a silent signal. We were both thinking the same thing in that moment.

When the bloody hell would this be over?

But just as she'd finished speaking, I heard the door crack open, Ginny's head peeking into the room with puffy, bloodshot eyes.

"Ah, Miss Weasley," Slughorn turned to glance over his shoulder, "Come in, come in."

"Look at her eyes," Hermione leaned towards Harry, but spoke loudly enough so that I could still hear. "They've been fighting again, her and Dean."

"Sorry," Ginny reached for the back of her empty chair, "I'm not usually late."

But just the words had left her mouth, Harry suddenly shot up out of his seat, standing awkwardly above everyone else's heads and waiting for Ginny to get settled in.

"No matter," Slughorn cut the strange tension Harry's action had created, "You're just in time for desert. That is if Belby's left you any."

Again, no one laughed.

Harry was just sitting back down as Slughorn finally turned his attention on me. 

"I can't forget about you, Miss Woodwick," He rested his hands on the table, "What is your father up to these days in the muggle world?"

"Oh," I set my spoon down, accidentally missing the side of the table and cringing as it fell to the floor. "My father owns his own bookstore."

"A bookstore?"

"Yes, sir."

"And what kind of books does he sell?"

"Oh, all kinds." I tried to avert his strangely intense eye contact, "I don't get too involved, though. I'm not a big reader."

Hermione made a small scoffing noise. 

"Tell me," Slughorn continued, "Did he own it before your mother's passing?"

Pang. A dull pain pulled at my heart strings, and I cleared my throat, biting down on the inside of my lip. 

"Yes," I managed, "Yes, he did."

"I'll bet she loved it," He said softly, "Always adored reading, your mother. I knew her, you know?"

I raised my eye line, tentatively meeting his. 

"Did you?"

"Of course." He beamed, "She was one of my students. And a favorite, at that."

I felt a flicker of warmth surge through my chest. 

"Really?"

"Oh, yes. She was so very kind. And talented. Potions came more easily to her than anyone."

I almost laughed. Clearly, that talent hadn't been passed down to me in any capacity. 

And that was when I began to wonder if Slughorn's interest in me had anything to do with me at all, or if it was all thanks to my mother and her previous accomplishments. I supposed that I didn't care either way. 

I didn't know how to respond to his words, so I just smiled and nodded, looking back to my uneaten bowl of ice cream and playing with my thumbs. 

"Speaking of potions," Another student in the circle piped up. I recognized her face, but the name refused to come back to me. "Cassia, do you remember fourth year when your potion got stolen out of the professor's desk?"

My stomach dropped like it was tied to a falling anvil. I tried not to sound too thrown off when I answered. 

"Yes, I do."

"That was so strange," She continued, "Did you ever figure out who stole it?"

It took everything in me not to snap. 

Yes, I knew exactly who stole it. 

But instead of telling the whole truth, I dug my fingernails into the palm of my hand, nearly drawing blood as I plastered a fake smile across my face. 

"Oh, I have some idea."

"I was in that class, too." Another boy chimed in, huffing a laugh, "I remember you were partners with Malfoy, right?"

Are you fucking kidding me? -- I hissed in my own mind, taking in a slow, deep breath. Were we really about to have a conversation about Draco Malfoy? Seriously. Of all things, this is what people wanted to discuss?

"Yes, I was."

"Blimey, how was that?" The boy leaned forward on the table, laughing, "Bloody awful, I'll bet."

I could have sworn that I'd cut through the flesh of my palm with how hard I was digging my fingernails into my own skin. 

"It was fine, really."

"Fine?" The boy pressed on, "I've never met a more slimy git in my entire life, and you thought he was fine?"

"We didn't speak much." I said quickly, raising my glass of water to my lips. "I wouldn't know."

"Really?" The first girl spoke again, "I heard a rumor that you two had been snogging for weeks."

If I'd chosen to take a sip of water at any other point in the night, I would have been fine. But unfortunately, I'd chosen that moment. And in that particular moment, I spit the water out across the table. 

I heard Slughorn exclaim something, but I pretty much ignored him. 

"Wha--excuse me?" I coughed, wiping the liquid from my chin, "Where--where did you possibly hear that from?"

"Oh, it's been years, I can hardly remember now." The girl poked at her ice cream, "But it wasn't just one person saying it. Pretty much all of Slytherin had the idea."

Suddenly, I wanted to vomit. 

And disappear. 

And cease to exist. 

Pretty much do anything but stay at the dinner party any longer. 

"Well, it wasn't true." I lied straight through my teeth, "As far as I know, Malfoy detests me just as much as I detest him."

"I thought he was fine?" The boy spoke up again, and I'm pretty sure I shot daggers with my eyes when I glared back at him. 

"I--yes, he's fine, I suppose. He's--whatever. The point is, whoever told you that rumor was lying."

The girl smirked.

"If you say so."

My blood was boiling at an all time high temperature now, and before I could think it over, I'd already risen out of my seat, my fist balled by my sides. I skipped the niceties of a formal goodbye, hearing the feet of my chair screech against the ground as I shoved it back. 

"Thank you for dinner, Professor." I said quickly over my shoulder as I stomped towards the door, "But I really have to be going."

"Oh, well, are you sure you wouldn't like to--"

"No, thank you, sir." I interrupted him, grabbing the handle and yanking it open, "I'll be going now."

The hallway met me with refreshing silence, and I slammed the door behind me, sighing with relief as it sealed a barrier between me and the horrid conversation I'd just escaped. 

But the nauseous feeling that the topic had brought up stayed with me even as I laid down in my bed a little while later, staring up at the ceiling and trying to force my eyes to close. 

But it was one of those nights when you feel way too awake to fall asleep, and closing your lids feels more unnatural than keeping them open. So I just stared blankly up at the roof of my dorm, hearing my roommates snore next to me and shift underneath their covers. 

My mind was swirling, per usual, and I breathed deeply, trying to figure out the confusing knots of my consciousness. 

But the more I thought about it, the more tangled they became, and eventually I had to give up trying, gradually growing too tired to follow their paths and letting myself drift off to sleep. 

If only I didn't still see his bloody face in my dreams. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So," Hermione was staring at me from across the table, but I was actively avoiding her gaze, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Talk about what?" I shoved a piece of toast into my mouth, pretending to read the paper. "And stop speaking to me like I'm about to snap."

"Well, after last night, I can't be entirely sure that you won't."

"You really left in a hurry," Harry chimed in.

"Well, I was tired." I snapped back, more defensively than I should have spoken, "I don't understand what all the fuss is about."

"Tired?" Hermione huffed, "I've never seen a tired person look so angry."

"I wasn't angry," The toast was way too dry. Like a piece of cardboard. Or maybe it was just my mouth. "I was aggravated by everyone's incredibly intrusive questions."

"But that's just it," Hermione glanced over at Harry, then back to me, "Why did they bother you so much? I mean, they're just rumors."

"Exactly," I spoke through a full mouth, "They're rumors. I don't want that kind of thing being said about me. It's humiliating."

"Well, I suppose I don't blame you," Hermione leaned back, "It was Malfoy that you were being accused of snogging, after all."

"Where would someone even come up with something so...bloody ridiculous?" I threw up my hands, a little too dramatically. Hermione quirked her brow. "I have no earthly idea."

"Hm." She looked me up and down, "You're awfully defensive against something that didn't happen."

"Like I said before, it's humiliating. Of course I'm defensive."

Harry huffed next to me, and I turned to look at him. 

"What?"

"Nothing," He played with his fork, "It's just...I heard the rumor too."

"Wha--when?" I widened my eyes, and he shrugged.

"Some time during fourth year."

"Brilliant." I ripped out another bit of toast with my teeth, chewing it furiously, "I suppose everyone just believed it, then?"

"Yes, pretty much." Hermione mumbled, and I whipped back towards her. 

"You too?!"

"I heard it, yes. I didn't say I bought it."

A pause. 

"Though, when I found you crying in the bathroom that day, I thought that maybe..."

I stared blankly at her, knowing exactly what she was about to say next. 

"...What?"

"That maybe it had something to do with Malfoy."

I sighed, dropping my fork and burying my face in my arms on the table. 

"Bloody hell."

"I didn't want to ask," She continued, "Since we didn't know each other, but I've always wondered--"

"No, that's not what it was about." I lied quickly, looking back up at her. "Not at all."

"Alright," She put her hands up defensively, "Sorry for assuming."

"Thank you," I rolled my eyes, straightening my spine and sipping at my cider, "If only I could clear it up with the rest of the school."

"I hardly think there's any need for that now," She huffed, "Draco's pretty much sealed himself off from all possible relationships."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Haven't you noticed?" Hermione glanced over my shoulder, towards the Slytherin table, "His...attitude shift?"

"I--I hardly pay any attention to him."

Ha. I almost laughed at myself. 

"Well start paying attention," She lowered her voice, "Ever since we came back this year, he's been acting strange."

I played dumb, furrowing my brows. Maybe Hermione knew something I didn't. 

"What do you mean, "strange"?"

"He's more quiet. More...secretive. And definitely less obnoxious. I suppose I should be glad he's acting so off."

I shifted uncomfortably on my bench, trying to appear uninterested in the new information. Or at least less interested then I truly was. 

"What do you think is wrong with him?"

Something in Hermione's eyes flickered, and I felt my heart start to slam. Maybe I was finally going to figure out what was going on. Why Draco had changed so much since the last time I'd spoken to him. 

But just as it had appeared, the flicker in her irises disappeared, and she averted my gaze, clearing her throat and looking down at the table. 

"No idea," She shrugged, "Maybe his father lowered his allowance this year."

"Seriously, 'Mione," I urged, "There's no way you don't have some sort of idea. You're not one to let questions go unanswered."

"Sorry, Cass," She slid her book towards her on the table, holding it close to her chest and standing up, "I don't have anything for you."

I frowned as she fixed her robes, sighing and getting ready to leave. 

"I have to get to class," She smoothed down the sides of her hair, "Ready, Harry?"

He nodded, standing up next to me and offering a weak smile. I returned the sentiment from my seat, crossing my arms and slumping my shoulders forward. 

"If you really want to know so badly," Hermione leaned over the table once more, her voice in a whisper, "Why don't you just ask him?"

"That's the dumbest thing you've ever said."

"Maybe. Or maybe you're just overthinking things."

"I'm not."

She smirked annoyingly, beginning to walk towards the doors and turning over her shoulder. 

"See you after class!"

I rolled my eyes. 

"Brilliant."

*Side note: yes, the chapter title is an "Office" reference*


	28. Naive

I was tired of having to avoid his eye contact.

And maybe it would have been easier if his irises weren't so damn blue. 

They stood out among everyone else's, like a lighthouse in the darkest of nights. And pared with his blonde-beacon of a head of hair, he was almost impossible to avoid. 

So whenever I did see him, like on this particular day, I forced my gaze to the ground. At least until I could be sure that he wasn't looking at me. Because making eye contact was quite possibly the worst thing I could allow to happen. 

Because his stupid eyes were one of my greatest weaknesses. There was no escaping them once you were locked in. 

But once I was in the clear, I let myself glance back up, watching him in silence as he walked towards me down the hallway, his head hung and his hands deep in his pockets. He barely even looked alive, his pale skin even more corpse-like than usual, and those same purple circles around his eye-sockets. 

They seemed permanent now, and I wondered how long he would have to sleep for them to finally start to fade away. Maybe years. 

"So I read to chapter twenty-five, and I still couldn't find ample evidence to prove my point, so I kept reading..."

Hermione was talking next to me, but to say I was barely listening would be an overstatement. I wasn't listening at all, all of my brainpower focused on Draco's slumped shoulders. His exhausted posture. His unbrushed hair. His slow, sway of a walk. His lips, still pink, and plush, and--

"Hey," Hermione shoved into my side, "Did you even hear a word I just said?"

"Wha--yes." I shook my head, snapping back into reality, "Of course."

"Repeat literally anything I've said in the past minute."

I opened my mouth, but no words came to my lips, and she huffed. 

"That's what I thought."

"Sorry," I muttered, "I'm just...a little distracted today."

Just as I spoke the sentence, my eyes followed Draco, shuffling by with minimal effort in his movements, and I listened closely to his footsteps among everyone else's, louder and more clicked with the heel of his overly expensive oxfords. 

I resisted the urge to glance over my shoulder, instead turning my attention back to Hermione and clearing my throat. 

But when I glanced over at her face, my stomach sank with the instant realization that she'd been watching me, her brows furrowed quizzically. 

"Why do you do that?" She asked. 

"Do what?"

"Look at him like that." She motioned down the hall, "Draco."

I scoffed, ignoring the nervous sweat on my palms. 

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You get a look on your face like you've just seen a ghost."

"I do not."

Now that she said it, I supposed that that was a rather fitting analogy. 

He was a ghost to me now. 

A ghost of what used to be. 

"Yes you do." She pressed, "Why is it?"

"If I'm making any sort of face, it's because I despise him."

"It's not that kind of look."

I rolled my eyes, trying to deflect as hard as possible. 

"'Mione, I swear, there's nothing to it."

"But--"

"Will you let it go?" I snapped, a little harsher than I'd intended to, and she finally stopped, shrinking back. 

"Fine." She crossed her arms, "I'll leave you alone for now. But that doesn't mean forever."

"You can ask as many times as you'd like," I tried to discourage her, "But you're never going to get a different answer."

She shrugged, smiling smugly. 

"We'll see."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Midnight. 

The clock chimed softly through the nearly empty library, minus me and Hermione, haunched over our desks with slumped shoulders and aching backs. 

"Can we go, please?" I grumbled, "My eyes keep closing."

"Just a little longer," She shushed me, "I've nearly got everything I need."

"You couldn't have done this research earlier in the day?"

"I was doing work for my other classes," She snapped back, "And it's your fault I didn't have time to finish this last night, dragging me to that Christmas party."

"You had fun." I rolled my eyes, and she ignored me, running her finger along a line in her thick, dusty book. 

I sighed, slumping back in my uncomfortably stiff chair and glancing around the library. The bookshelves rose up higher than I could ever possibly reach, and I wondered how long it had been since someone had even touched a book on one of the top shelves. 

Maybe not since they'd been put there in the first place. 

Moonlight was trickling in through the stain glass windows, and I could see the shadow of snow falling outside, coating the grounds in a fresh layer of icy white and blue. 

The only sound other than my own breathing was the quiet ticking of a tall clock sitting up against the wall, and the scribbling of Hermione's quill on her parchment. 

"Just a few more minutes," She mumbled under her breath, but just as she did, something caught my eye. 

A motion, in the doorway, drew my attention towards it, and I squinted to see all the way down the long passage of desks and bookshelves. But I could just make out the figure of a tall, black suit-dressed figure, with stark blonde hair and haunched shoulders. 

My stomach did a flip, but he was gone a moment later, disappearing back behind the wall of the hallway and heading to a destination I didn't know. 

I felt the twinge of an urge to follow him, but my logical side kept me rooted firmly in my seat, playing with the knitted sleeve of my sweater. 

"'Mione, did you see that?" I whispered, turning to her, who acknowledged me distractedly, her eyes still glued to the page. "Hermione." I repeated, louder, and she finally glanced up. 

"Hm?"

"Did you see that?"

"See what?"

"Malfoy. Walking past the door." 

She furrowed her brows, looking past me. 

"What? No."

"Well, he did."

"Malfoy? You're sure it was him?"

"Yes, very sure."

Hermione closed her book, her facial expression twisted in deep thought. That was until I spoke again. 

"What? What are you making that face for?"

"It's just...strange." She said, her eyes distant and pinched. "I can't think of any reason why Draco would be walking around the castle so late at night." A pause. "What was he wearing?"

"What was he wearing?" I huffed, "Why does it matter?"

"Because it does. What was he wearing?"

"Oh, um..." I stalled, pretending to have to think about it -- as if I didn't notice every detail whenever I saw him. "The same suit he's always in, I think."

Hermione nodded slowly, chewing her lip and sliding her books into her lap. 

"Hm." She just mumbled, looking strangely distracted. As if there was something she wasn't telling me. 

"'Mione, what's going on?" I scooted my chair closer to hers, "I feel like you're keeping something a secret."

"It's not a secret," She raised her brows, sighing, "Just...not something I can prove."

"Well, what is it?"

She took a long pause, seeming to debate whether to tell me or not. But eventually, she sighed again, meeting my eye line and speaking in a low whisper. 

"Well, it was Harry's theory at first. But when he told me, I didn't believe him because, well -- I don't know why I didn't believe it, really. Because it makes sense, the more I think about it. What, with his family's beliefs, and their history..."

"Just say it."

"I think Draco's a Death Eater."

Her words nearly made my knees buckle. I was lucky to be sitting down. 

And suddenly, I couldn't breathe. 

Because it made perfect sense. 

Draco's change in attitude. His new, more intensified coldness towards everyone around him. The constant long sleeves. The dark circles under his eyes. The observable stress and exhaustion. 

And then what was worse. 

Katie Bell. 

The necklace. 

The fact that she was supposed to deliver it to Dumbledore. 

Bloody hell, I felt like my heart was about to slam out of my chest. 

But I tried my hardest to appear unaffected, nodding slowly and containing the painful throbbing in my ribcage. 

"That's..." I struggled to find words. Any words. "Wow."

"Yes..." She trailed off, "Wow."

"So, you really believe it?" I shook my head, "You think he's got the dark mark and all?"

"If he's taken the vow, then yes." She whispered even quieter, "He's one of them now."

My head was spinning, so quickly that I felt a wave of nausea bubbling up through my chest. But I tried my best to fight it back, resting my elbows on the desk in front of me and running my hands through my hair. 

"I just...I can't believe it." I breathed, staring blankly at the bookshelf, "We've known him since we were eleven."

"It's shocking, I know." She sighed, "But I suppose that if I'd had to guess if anyone would become one of them, I would have said him."

I didn't respond. I couldn't. Because suddenly there was a lump in my throat. And no matter how hard I tried to swallow it back, it refused to go away. So I just shook my head, feeling the corners of my eyes well with tears. 

"Do you think he wanted it?" I finally whispered, "I mean, if he really is one now."

"What do you mean?"

"I just...I don't see it. I know his father is one and all, but..."

Hermione didn't respond for a long while, but then she sighed, scooting closer to me and resting her hand on my arm. 

"Even if he didn't want it," She muttered, "I doubt he had much of a choice."

I nodded slowly, offering her a weak smile and sitting up straight. 

We didn't speak for a few minutes, just sat in silence and thought about what had been said. But there wasn't enough time in the world for me to process it, and even as we gathered our things, rising from our seats and heading for the door, I still kept picturing his face. His eyes. His lips.

Those parts of him I used to know so well. 

But clearly, things had changed. 

And clearly, there were parts of him I didn't know. Didn't understand. 

Didn't want to accept. 

Because even though the reality of Draco becoming a Death Eater was something that had always dwelled in the back of my mind, I never really expected it to happen. And maybe that was naive of me. 

But falling for him in the first place had been naive of me. 

So I suppose I was just prone to naivety. 

And I suppose you have to be to love someone like him.


	29. Gatecrashing

It's ridiculous, really; the prejudice that people have against wearing the same fancy dress twice. 

I lived by the simple rule that if I looked good in it, I would wear it more than once. And it totally had nothing to do with the fact that it was the only dress I owned at that time. 

But regardless, I'd worn it to the Yule Ball two years before. And now, I was wearing it again. To a different party. With an older, more mature body. And a different, more experienced mindset. 

Well, in some ways. 

Some things were still the same. 

The black fabric was a little tighter over my hips, just like my uniform skirt had felt, and I rolled my eyes, yanking at it as I stood against the wall of Slughorn's office. Walking -- or even standing in heels wasn't something that came very naturally to me, and every time my pointed shoes clicked along the floor, the balls of my feet throbbed, already in pain five minutes into wearing them. 

Lively music was playing through the crowded room, and I sipped weakly at my sweet-tasing drink, my eyes scanning over the scene before me. The glass was thin and delicate looking, and fit perfectly in the palm of my hand as my fingers curled up around it, tensing every time I thought someone might try to speak to me. 

Especially including my date. 

I hadn't wanted to bring him. I barely even knew anything about him, either. But I'd needed someone to go with, and since the person I really wanted was -- how should I put it -- unavailable to me, I'd been forced into the less than fortunate situation of inviting a near stranger. 

"How's the punch?" He leaned towards me from the side, his face way too close to mine for comfort. I'm pretty sure I cringed as I shifted away. 

"Fine."

"It's too sweet for me," He swished it around in his glass, "Needs some edge."

I didn't even have the energy to fake a nice conversation, sighing and refusing to look at him. 

"Don't drink it, then."

He was a Ravenclaw, and a year older than me. I suppose that to most girls, he would have been their ideal type. Tall. Dark haired. Brown eyes. That dumb, annoyingly perfectly smile that everyone seemed to love so much. 

But that was just it. 

He was too perfect. Almost in a way that felt unnatural. And looking into his eyes was like staring at a brick wall. 

There was no depth. No emotion. Just...emptiness.

It made me shiver. 

"Hey, what do you say we, uh, get out of here?" He slid closer to me, his hand appearing on the wall by my head. I flinched. 

"Why?"

"You know," His lips curled into a smirk. I assume it was supposed to be seductive. It wasn't. "So we can have some alone time."

I gulped, sipping my drink again. 

"I'm alright."

"Oh, come on," He moved closer again, and suddenly, I was considering introducing him to my fist. Fortunately, I'd worn rings tonight. "Don't tell me you're actually having fun watching Cormac vomit on Snape's shoes."

I raised my brows, watching Snape from across the room as his face twisted with disgust, Cormac meeting his eye line and looking more terrified than I'd ever seen him. It made me smile. 

"I am, actually."

My date scoffed.

"Do you need some drinks in you or something?"

I turned to him, my brows furrowed. 

"Excuse me?"

"Why are you acting so dodgy?" He hissed, and I opened my mouth, smiling in disbelief. 

"Dodgy?"

"Yes, like a stuck up--"

I'd never been so happy to hear a door opening -- so abruptly that not only did it interrupt our less than pleasant conversation, but everyone else's with it. 

It was only when I glanced over towards the source of the sound, my eyes falling on the two people storming into the room, that the feeling of relief quickly faded. 

"Take your hands off me, you filthy squib!" Draco was hissing -- utterly thrashing against Filch's tight grip on his suit. But he was yanked even harder the more resistance he offered up, and Filch dragged him towards the center of the room, everyone's eyes falling on them at once. 

"Professor Slughorn, sir," Filch began, holding Draco out in front of him with his suit's fabric balled tightly in his fist. "I've just discovered this boy lurking in an upstairs corridor. He claims to have been invited to your party--"

"Okay, okay, I was gatecrashing!" Draco interrupted him, heaving with labored, flustered breaths. "Happy?"

Professor Slughorn opened his mouth to respond, but before he could possibly let a single syllable slip, Professor Snape was on the scene, stepping out in front of him and stopping directly in front of Draco. 

"I'll escort him out."

Their eyes locked, and Draco yanked his shoulder away from Filch's grip, his lips twisted into a deep frown. 

"Certainly," He hissed in a whisper, "Professor."

And within moments, they were gone. Just like a shadow disappears when the sun comes back out, they vanished into the crowd, slipping away without another word and leaving no trace behind but the memory of their presence. 

And I was left standing in silence, my eyes still focused on the spot where he'd been only moments before, the outline of his silhouette seeming tattooed in my eyes like the sun when you stare at it for too long. 

"All right everyone, carry on, carry on." Professor Slughorn spoke first, but still, I barely heard him. It was my date's unsettling voice that finally snapped me out of my trance. 

"Blimey," He huffed, "That was interesting."

I just made a small noise in response, and I watched him roll his eyes. 

"Christ, why did you even invite me to this party?" He hissed, "Clearly, you don't have any interest in me."

"You're right." I turned towards him, raising my eyebrows simply and shoving my drink into his free hand before he could protest it, "I don't."

He opened his mouth to say something, but I walked away before he could, smiling to myself and listening to him mutter something under his breath. I was sure he was cursing me or something. But honestly, I could have cared less. 

Because there was only one thing on my mind, and now, this party was the least of my worries. 

The door was heavy as I yanked it open, and I stepped tentatively into the hallway, glancing up and down the corridor to make sure I was alone. I was, and I took the opportunity to slip down towards the wider passage a little ways away, listening to the sound of other people's footsteps in the distance. 

Two people's footsteps. 

I just hoped I was following the right trail. 

Tip toeing nearer and nearer, I stayed close to the wall, glancing around each corner and being sure that no one was going to run into me from the other direction.

Each time, the coast was clear, and I continued on until I reached a spot where I could hear the footsteps perfectly clearly. 

They were right on the other side of the wall from me, and when Draco's voice finally sounded through the long, echoey space, it confirmed my idea.

He was hissing. Utterly furious, from the sound of his voice, and I leaned against the wall, hoping that my breathing wasn't loud enough that they would hear it. 

"Maybe I did hex that Bell girl, maybe I didn't. What's it to you?"

The sound of slamming, and Draco's breath catching in his throat. 

"I swore to protect you." Snape seethed, "I made the Unbreakable Vow."

"I don't need protection," Draco replied, "I was chosen for this. Out of all others -- me!"

My heart was slamming now, and I had to try my hardest not to hyperventilate. Not to panic. Because what he was saying confirmed everything Hermione had told me in the library. Everything I'd worried about for the last few months. Everything I'd feared -- but hoped -- that he wouldn't do. 

Then four words that made my heart sink. 

"I won't fail him--"

"You're afraid, Draco." Snape muttered, "You attempt to conceal it, but it's obvious. Let me assist you--"

"No!" His voice came out like a sob. Choked. It was tight in his throat, like he had to force it out. "I was chosen. This is my moment!"

I'm not sure how long I stayed there, hiding behind the wall. At least until I heard one of their footsteps leave the hallway -- of whom I guessed belonged to Snape. And my theory was confirmed as I heard Draco's shaky exhale from behind the stone divider, his breathing heavy and stressed. 

And then I heard him slide down to the floor. 

And then. 

I heard the sobs. 

It took a minute for me to register what was really happening, because when I tried to justify it in my mind, it didn't make any sense. 

Because Draco Malfoy didn't cry. He wouldn't. It would be too vulnerable for a person like him, even in isolation. 

Yet here he was, sobbing with short, shallow breaths, his choked voice echoing through the empty passageway. 

And looking back now, I'm not sure what compelled me to step out from behind the wall, my eyes falling on his haunched figure, his shoulders shaking every time a cry escaped him. 

But I did, and then I stepped towards him, my hands shaking as I approached, closer and closer until I was only a few feet away. 

He still hadn't noticed me, though, his face buried in his hands and his head tucked down between his knees. He looked utterly helpless, and my heart throbbed as I watched him. 

I wanted nothing more than to wrap him in my arms. To stroke his hair, and his cheek, and kiss his forehead until his sobs ceased. I wanted to feel his lips against mine, and speak calming words until he smiled. To let him lay against my chest and listen to my steady heartbeat. 

Maybe he would count the beats like I used to. 

And maybe he wouldn't push me away. 

But that was what I wanted. It definitely wasn't reality. 

One last step, and my heel clicked, suddenly alerting him to my presence and making my heart leap.

Draco sucked in a sharp breath, his face leaving his hands and pointing up towards me, twisted with pain and, now, anger. 

For a second, I wondered if he was afraid that I'd heard he and Snape's conversation. If he was, though, he didn't show it, looking me up and down like I was the most disgusting thing he'd ever seen and quickly wiping away the streaks of tears staining his cheeks.

"What the bloody hell are you doing here, Mudblood?" He hissed with a scowl, nearly spitting his syllables, "Did you lose your way trying to follow simple directions back to the party?"

"Draco--"

"I saw your date in there. Not surprised you picked a guy like that, the whore that you are--"

"Draco!" I interrupted him, my eyes wide with frustration, "Will you shut up? Insulting me is not going to make me go away."

"Well, why the fuck not?" He turned away, staring towards the ground and snarling.

"Because," I sighed, "I'm used to it by now."

Draco didn't respond, and I just watched him in silence for a moment, his expression still appearing to be shadowed by a layer of pain, though he tried to hide it with anger. I was sure that if he hadn't realized that I was there, he would have cried for a lot longer. 

And I almost regretted interrupting him. He probably needed a good cry. I couldn't imagine that he did it very often. 

A few minutes passed with no words, and I sighed again, stepping closer to him and leaning my back against the wall. And slowly, I slid to the ground, still a few feet away but sitting next to him on the floor of the hall. 

I could feel him watching me out of the corner of his eye as I rested there, my gaze focused on my hands in my lap, messing with my freshly painted nails and peeling the polish away piece by piece. 

"So," I spoke, "What's all this about?"

Draco scoffed. 

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're going to make me say it?" I raised my brows, and he made an oblivious expression. So I continued. "The sobbing?"

"I wasn't sobbing." He snapped, and I cocked my head to the side. "And it's none of your fucking business anyway."

"Maybe not," I shrugged, my eyes scanning up and down his face, "But I don't like seeing you in pain. Which you clearly are."

"Pain." He scoffed, "I'm not in pain. Have you ever considered that maybe some people aren't as fucking sensitive as you are?"

"You cuss a lot more now."

"What?"

"You cuss a lot more now than you used to."

"What the fuck does that have to do with anything?"

"I'm just observing."

"Well, stop observing." Draco furrowed his brows angrily, "Why are you even speaking to me?"

"What do you mean why?" I shook my head, "Because I care about you--"

"Why!" Draco raised his voice, and I flinched, pausing for a moment as he sighed frustratedly, looking back down at his lap. When he spoke again, it was much quieter. "Why?"

I didn't respond for a while. Because honestly, I didn't have a good answer. 

Why did I care about him? There was no reason for me to. He'd broken my heart, not just once, but multiple times. He'd harassed me for years. And now, he was pretending not to know me at all. So really, I shouldn't have given a shit about the blonde-haired boy sobbing on the floor of the hallway. 

But I did. 

More than I cared about anyone else in the world. 

"Do you remember that night in the astronomy tower," I finally broke the silence, "When you told me that you were giving me another reason to hate you?"

Draco paused, still staring at the ground. But I watched him take in a slow, deep breath, exhaling through his nose. 

"Vaguely."

"Well, I never really have."

His brows furrowed. 

"Have what?"

"Hated you." I could feel my pulse slamming. Why was I telling him this? "Not in any real way."

He turned his head slowly, meeting my eyes with those icy irises that I could never seem to escape. And I felt myself blush, though in the moonlit hallway, I'm not sure that he could see it. 

But as his gaze scanned over me, I wasn't met with the same warmth that his expression used to provide. Not that I'd seen it in years, but part of me was still holding out hope that it still existed. 

His lips stayed pulled into a deep frown. His eyes were thin and glaring. There was no warmth in his cheeks. 

His voice was as cold as I was sure his hands were. 

"You should."

I refused to look away, though I could tell that he was trying to get me to. His gaze was intentionally intimidating, his lids thinning more with each passing second and a furious anger filling his irises. But I kept myself calm, staring back with a blank expression and trying to keep my breathing steady. 

"Don't do this," I whispered, "Please. I can help you, Draco. I can see that you're struggling--"

"I don't need anyone's fucking help." He tore his gaze away, shaking his head, "And even if I did, you'd be the last person I'd go to."

"Dra--"

"Stop it." He cut me off, whipping back towards me with an even angrier expression, "Don't say my name like that. Like I'm about to snap."

I nodded slowly, bringing my bottom lip between my teeth. 

"Sorry."

Draco just scoffed, suddenly shoving himself off the ground and onto his feet. He towered over me, his shadow casting down over my figure and leaving me in darkness, a shiver traveling up my spine as he scanned me with a scowl. 

"Let me make myself clear, Mudblood." He hissed through bared teeth, "I'm not interested in your pity party. And I definitely don't need anyone's help, much less yours."

I didn't respond, but he continued anyway. 

"What I do, or feel, or think isn't any of your fucking business anymore. Do you understand?" He stepped closer, making me flinch. But I didn't nod, so he stepped closer again, leaning down. "Do you?"

"Christ--fine, yes. I do."

"Good." He straightened his suit jacket and spine, puffing his chest with a deep breath and looking up and down the hallway. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to be... well," He smirked nastily, "Anywhere but here."

He left before I could get another word out, his long legs carrying him down the corridor with ease. And he'd rounded a corner into another passageway in a split second, leaving me alone once more with my heart pounding in my chest. 

And as I sat on the floor, my dress sprawled out around me, I couldn't decide exactly how I was feeling.

Angry? Sad? Disappointed? Maybe a mixture of all of them? Yes, probably that. 

But more than anything else, I was confused.

Confused about a million different things. 

But there was one question sticking out above all the rest, spurred by Draco's words when he hadn't known that I was listening. 

"I was chosen for this. Out of all others -- me!"

His voice echoed through my mind on a loop, and as his footsteps grew further and further away down the hall, the only thing I could think about was: 

What exactly had he been chosen for?


	30. Click

TW // Sexual assault. Please don't read if that triggers you in any way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Holiday break came and went in the blink of an eye, and as I stepped back into the hallway leading to the dungeons, I took in a slow, deep breath, holding the books in my arms close to my chest. 

And with a heavy pit settling in my stomach, I took my first step down the stairs, heading straight for the Slytherin common room. 

Only this time, I was coming for a much different reason than before. 

For one, I wasn't only not there to see Draco, but I actually prayed that I wouldn't run into him. We hadn't spoken since that night at Slughorn's Christmas party, and I assumed that based on the way our conversation had ended that we weren't exactly on the best of terms. 

But it didn't matter. Because I wasn't there to argue with him. I wasn't there for him at all. 

I was there for a much less exciting reason. 

Potions class. 

God, why did it always come back to potions class?

A potions group project, to be more exact. Which was almost worse than taking the class itself. I suppose if I really thought about it, I was lucky that at least I wasn't paired with Draco. That would have been a train wreck, combined with a tornado, mixed with a hurricane, or something like that. 

But my actual partner wasn't much better. I didn't even remember his name, but I could picture his face in my mind, and as I finally stopped in front of the hidden doorway, I racked my brain trying to come up with what to call him. 

Was it Josh? Or Jack? Something with a "j". Or maybe it was an "m." Or maybe--

"Oh, hey," A voice snapped me from my thoughts, and I looked up quickly from the ground to find the boy standing in front of me, having walked straight through the wall without me noticing. My cheeks went red, and I smiled awkwardly, suddenly sticking out my hand for him to shake it. 

"Hi."

I had no idea what had compelled me to do it, and it seemed that he was just as confused by the look on his face. But he took my hand reluctantly, shaking it for a split second before dropping it again and gesturing over his shoulder. 

"We can head back to my dorm, if that's okay," I watched him as he spoke, noticing that the ring on his finger looked incredibly similar to one of Draco's. "I have all of my books set up there."

"Oh, yeah, that's fine." I nodded, "I brought mine, too." I lifted the stack cradled in my arms, and he smiled weakly, turning back to the wall. 

"This way." He mumbled, waving me along as he sunk back into the wall, his figure disappearing behind the stone divider. I followed close behind him, feeling my skin tingle as I passed through the mirage. 

The common room was just as I remembered it, even though I hadn't seen it for a few years. The fireplace was still roaring with a strong flame, the smell of burnt wood and ash filling the room in a comforting haze. The dark leather couches sat in the same position around it, filled by two Slytherin girls with their legs stretched out over the entire space. 

They regarded me with disinterested glances as I passed by, but that didn't stop me from smiling awkwardly at them. As expected, they didn't return the sentiment. 

I winded up the stairs behind the boy, who's name I still couldn't remember, glancing around nervously every few seconds to make sure that Draco hadn't appeared somewhere. Not that it would matter if he saw me, really. I wasn't there for him. And he had no right to tell me where I could and couldn't go. 

But I still found my palms sweating nervously as I walked down the hallway of the dorms, scanning the numbers along the doors and finding the one I recognized. 

Draco's room. 

The night I'd visited it two years before still burned brightly in my memory, and I gulped, stepping past it with a lurching of my heart. I wondered if he was in there as I slid by, sprawled out on his bed with a book or sitting at his desk with his shoulders haunched over it. 

But I didn't have long to think about it, as the boy stopped in front of a door a little ways down and pulled a key out of the pocket of his robe. 

"Come on," He gestured, letting me walk in ahead of him as the door swung open, revealing a large dorm room with five green-comfortered beds. They looked just like Draco's had, only his sheets seemed to have been a nicer quality, and I smiled to myself at the thought of it. Of course they had been. 

And just like Draco's room, no one else seemed to be in this one. I wasn't sure why it was empty, but it was. Maybe they were all at lunch. But regardless, we were left alone, and I turned back around, smiling weakly towards him.

"Where should I put my books?" I asked as he clicked the door shut, "They're getting kind of heavy."

"Oh, you can just put them on my bed. It's that one, just there." He pointed to a bed in front of me, and I nodded, laying my books down on the mattress and straightening my spine. 

"Alright," I clapped my hands together, my back still to him, "I've been thinking about the project, and I really think that if we work on it every day until the due date we'll be--"

Click. 

I froze. 

The sliding of metal. Another click. 

I paused, my words stopping in my throat as I processed the sound. 

It couldn't be...

I felt a strong, entire body shiver run through me, turning slowly towards the boy and watching him as his hand lingered on the knob of the door. I stared in silence, my mind spinning as I scanned my gaze over him, searching for any kind of reassurance that what I thought was happening wasn't. 

But what I found didn't help to settle my nerves. If anything, it made me feel worse. Because suddenly, his eyes looked different than before. Darker. More focused. Like a shadow had fallen over them. 

And instantly, with the sinking of my stomach, I knew what had happened. 

The door was locked. 

And before I could have ever possibly seen it coming, I was trapped. 

I could feel the hair on the back of my neck standing up straight, my limbs feeling completely numb as the realization of what was happening washed over me. My brain wouldn't work correctly as I scanned the room for some kind of plan. Some kind of way to defend myself. 

But I found nothing. And I couldn't seem to think of anything, either. My mind was scrambled with fear as I stared at him, who had now taken his hand off the knob of the door and stepped further into the room. 

"You know, I've always thought you were the fittest girl in our class." He smirked slyly, making my hands begin to quiver at my sides. And with a sinking, horrible feeling in my chest, I realized that I'd left my wand in my dorm room. "I was bloody ecstatic when we got pared for this project."

I gulped, my throat feeling as though it was coated in sand. But when I tried to back away from his slowly advancing figure, I realized that I'd run out of room, the backside of my legs hitting his bed. 

"You never seem to look my way, though." He laughed to himself, "Which is a shame. I'm always trying to catch your attention."

My heart was slamming faster than it ever had before, and as he stepped even closer, only a few feet away from me now, I considered whether I'd be able to get to the door. Would I be able to unlock it before he caught me? Would I be able to fight him off? 

A million thoughts were going through my mind at once, and I couldn't sort out a single good idea on how to get out of this. 

"Can you unlock the door, please?" I managed to squeak out, my voice quivering, "You're scaring me."

"Oh, I would." He shrugged, stepping closer again, "But I don't want anyone walking in on us."

I took in a shaky, shallow breath, gulping again. 

"Doing what?"

He smirked, taking one last step and coming up directly in front of me. I felt as if every cell in my body was vibrating with terror as he reached forward, his hand sliding up my waist and making me flinch. 

"Oh, I think you know what."

And that was when my instincts came back to me. 

My fist didn't hesitate at all as it connected with his nose in a harsh crack, and he cried out, his hands flying to his face as his body folded forward. I didn't skip a beat, ducking out from behind him and tearing towards the door, my heart beating so fast that I thought it might give out. 

I reached it in seconds, my fingers fumbling as quickly as they could operate with the lock. I twisted it, hearing the same click as before and moving to grab the knob. My hand was around it, my wrist turning to yank the door open as suddenly I felt two hands grip onto my shoulder from behind, pulling me back with a harsh snap and throwing me to the ground. 

I slammed against the floor, yelping as the boy's body collapsed on top of mine, pinning me down on the ground and grabbing my wrists. He jerked them to either side of my body, holding them down on the floor with his fingertips digging into my skin. 

"You bitch--" He hissed on top of me, leaning down right in front of my face and spitting his syllables, "I wasn't going to do it like this."

"Get off!" I screamed, kicking and struggling underneath him, "Fuck--get off!"

"Shut the fuck up, will you?" He shushed me, but when I didn't comply, he let one of his hands leave my wrists momentarily, grabbing a cloth from his pocket and shoving it into my mouth. I screamed and struggled as he pushed it deeper, making me choke as the fabric scratched the back of my throat.

"You brought this on yourself." He seethed, shifting on top of me and aligning his waist with mine. My legs were trapped underneath him, and I could feel utter panic shooting through me as his one free hand slid down my chest, stopping at the waist of my skirt and gripping the fabric. 

I screamed again, my voice muted by the cloth, kicking to the best of my ability underneath him and trying my hardest to shove him off. But it was no use. He was heavier than I was, and stronger, and the more I struggled, the more pressure he put on my wrists, now held in one of his hands and pinned above my head. 

I was utterly defenseless against him as he yanked the fabric of my skirt down my legs in one swift movement, my bare legs coming in contact with the wooden floor underneath me. And seconds later, with utter terror coursing through my veins, I felt one of his fingers slip underneath the hem of my underwear, sliding them slowly down my waist until I was completely exposed. 

I was crying now. Sobbing. Hot tears pouring down the sides of my face and muted cries echoing from my throat. I could barely even breathe with the cloth stuffed in my mouth, and as I stared up at the ceiling, my legs being pried apart my by the boy on top of me, all I could do was hope. 

Hope that soon it would be over. 

Hope that I would be able to get past it. 

Hope that it wouldn't follow me for the rest of my life. 

Hope that I would be able to heal. 

He shifted again on top of me, and with a horrible, sickening realization, I noticed that he'd slid his pants down his waist. And I could feel it now, pressing against my leg as he hovered over me, more tears sliding down my cheeks as I continued to sob. 

"Please--" I choked out against the cloth, "Please--"

"Stop that," He mumbled, his breathing heavy and labored in anticipation, "It's not going to help you."

"Please--" I shook my head, raising my voice for anyone who might possibly hear me. "Please--help!"

"Shut up!" He suddenly let go of my wrists, his hand flying to the side of my face and slapping me with a harsh crack. I yelped, more tears pouring like an over-flooded river and falling onto the hardwood floor underneath me. 

My hands were pinned again by the time I recovered from the slap, and I could feel my chest getting tight and constricted, like there was a pound of bricks sitting on my ribcage. 

"Help!" I screamed out one last time as I felt his erection slide over my thigh, making me instantly nauseated as he pried my legs further apart. He was angling himself in front of my entrance as he spoke again. 

"Don't fight back," He mumbled, "It'll be over quicker if you just--" 

Snap. 

The door flew open with such force that I thought it might fly off the wall, and instantly, the boy on top of me froze, his face going as white as the melting snow outside. 

And a split second later, he was being yanked off of me, flying backwards and slamming to the ground on his back. I could hear someone mounting him on the floor, sounds of struggle coming from his mouth as he was pinned down like I had been moments before. 

And then, I heard the first few punches. 

It was a mixture of sounds. 

Cracking. Muted blows. Heavy breathing. And desperate cries from the boy's mouth every time a new strike was delivered to his body. 

And whoever was attacking him was relentless. Delivering punch after punch with no hesitation, their fists flying like they'd been waiting for this kind of opportunity forever. 

And in my shocked state, I hadn't bothered to see who it was. I couldn't. 

My body was frozen in place, sprawled out on the ground with my legs spread wide open. And if I'd been thinking clearly, I could have covered myself. But all I could think about in that moment was that I was safe. 

It was over. 

And though my heartbeat refused to slow, my breathing started to feel a little more normal, and I was able to get in a few deep, healthy breaths, filling my lungs for what seemed like the first time in hours. 

And when I'd finally gotten enough air to bring life back to my limbs, I lifted my neck off the ground, glancing over to see who had rescued me. I didn't know how I would possibly be able to thank them, whoever they were.

But as soon as I looked over at the violent scene in front of me, my heart wanted to stop all over again. 

Because sitting on top of the boy who had attacked me, punching wildly with relentless fists, was Draco. 

White hair falling down into his eyes, he'd gone absolutely feral, attacking the boy with harsh blows and grunting like a crazed animal every time his fists connected with his body. He was dressed in a white, long-sleeve undershirt -- though now it was splattered with the boy's blood, dripping steadily from his busted nose -- and a gray sleeveless sweater, his green tie catching my eye from its tucked away spot underneath the vest. 

But I could hardly focus on his clothes, since the whimpering and crying of the boy had become so loud that people had started to gather outside the doorway, glancing inside and whispering noisily. 

Luckily, I'd covered myself by then, sliding my skirt back up my legs but continuing to lay on the ground. I wasn't ready to move yet, and I wasn't sure if my legs were going to work properly anyway. I hadn't been able to stop shaking yet. 

But my attention was suddenly pulled away from myself as I heard heavy footsteps approaching down the hallway, a tall, looming figure appearing in the doorway. And when I glanced to the side, my puffy eyes half closed, I saw Professor Snape staring down at me, his lips pulled into a thin line. 

He'd moved on to Draco a second later, grabbing him by the shoulders and yanking him off of the boy, who was now bleeding and bruised all over, his body laying limply on the floor. Draco just stumbled back, his chest heaving as he wiped his face, blood smeared across his cheeks and lips before he turned away, his back to me as he caught his breath. 

He didn't make eye contact once, even as Snape kneeled over the boy, whipping out his wand and fixing the crooked shape of his broken nose. I heard it snap back into place, with a loud howl of pain from my attacker, and Snape stood up again, his long black hair falling over his shoulders as he turned to Draco. 

"Mr. Malfoy, please bring Madame Pomfrey here immediately," He muttered, his syllables long and drawn out, "And we will discuss your actions...later...."

He eyed me again with a glance over his shoulder, pausing before he spoke again. And maybe he thought that I couldn't hear him. But I could. And I remembered every single word. 

"Somehow, Draco, I find it hard to believe that you just happened to stumble upon Miss Woodwick in her time of need," He muttered. I watched Draco look away.

"Bring Madame Pomfrey." He repeated, "I'll wait here."

Draco turned away without a single word, stomping out into the hallway with heavy footsteps and bloodstained skin, his hair a ruffled mess and his face twisted with some sort of rage.

And as Snape stood over the boy, his eyes every so often shifting over to me, I wondered what he'd meant when he said that he didn't think it was a coincidence that Draco found me. 

Because of course it was. It had to have been. Because the only other answer I could come up with was that Snape was implying that he was watching me. And why would he do that?

Draco didn't care about me anymore. He didn't have any reason to. And I supposed that him rescuing me was just an act of human decency. I mean, he did have a heart, after all. He wasn't all bad. 

But Snape's words rang in my ears like a broken record, over and over again until I was forced to consider them. And as Madame Pomfrey finally arrived a few minutes later, dropping to the floor by my side and shooing the students in the hall away, the only thing I could think about was him. 

And how I was ever supposed to repay him.


	31. Don't Thank Me

"You'll have to stay the night." I could hear Madame Pomfrey's voice from out in the hall, and I paused, instantly rethinking my decision to show up. 

What was I doing here, anyway?

I hadn't really planned what I wanted to say to him. 

Thank you? 

That part was obvious, at least. But what would come out of my mouth after that...I wasn't so sure about. I'd had a few hours to plan it out, and still, I'd come up with nothing worth speaking into existence. I'd usually just rely on my ability to wing it, but with Draco...somehow I didn't trust myself to improvise on the spot. 

Still, I didn't turn back around -- even though that probably would have been the smartest decision.

I walked forward instead, wringing my hands together as I stepped into the infirmary, my heart slamming as I scanned my gaze over the space. I found him instantly. I couldn't help it. And I tried to keep my breathing steady as I walked closer to his cot, Madame Pomfrey standing over him and messing with two white bandages, now wrapped tightly around his fists. 

"Don't take them off," She instructed him, "You need to keep the ointment on your knuckles. Cuts like that can give you all sorts of infections--" I stopped a few feet away from the bed, standing awkwardly in silence until one of them noticed me. Madame Pomfrey was the first, glancing up from Draco and softening her expression as she met my eyes. 

"Oh, Miss Woodwick," She tilted her head, looking sympathetic, "How are you, dear?"

"Fine, thank you." I lied, shooting her a more-than-fake smile.

"I'm glad." She stepped away from Draco, who still refused to look up in my direction, his gray eyes focused on the bandages around his fists. "I was just tending to Mr. Malfoy, here. It seems that his efforts to rescue you resulted in a few broken bones in his hands." 

I furrowed my brows worriedly, but she waved my expression away, smiling. 

"Not to worry, I'll get him fixed up in no time. Just a few doses of Skele-grow and he'll be as good as new. That does mean that he'll have to stay the night, though."

Draco mumbled something under his breath, but Madame Pomfrey ignored him, stepping towards me and laying a hand on my bicep. 

"I'm so sorry about what happened, dear." She lowered her voice, "I can hardly imagine how you're feeling."

"I'm fine, really." I lied again, "I suppose that I'm just lucky he found me before things got any worse."

"Yes, it's very lucky." She nodded, "Very lucky, indeed..." Her voice trailed off, and she glanced back over her shoulder, eyeing Draco quickly. 

"You know, I have to say, dear, that this seems to be a trend."

I tilted my head. 

"What do you mean?"

"I remember when Mr. Malfoy came to your rescue you the first time. About two years back now, I believe. Do you not recall your concussion?"

My stomach dropped. And at the same time, something flickered in my chest. But the end result was just nausea. 

"Oh," I breathed, "Yes, I do."

Madame Pomfrey smiled, squeezing my shoulder and nodding. 

"Funny, how he always seems to be around just when you need him."

And then she walked away. 

Just walked away, like what she'd said wouldn't throw me into a downward spiral of endless thoughts and emotions that I didn't know how to handle. And I just stood there, my mouth half opened with unsaid words and my eyes blinking at nothing in particular.

I'm not sure how long I stalled there, dumbfounded. But it was long enough for me to look stupid, and as I finally snapped out of it, I could feel myself blushing, the sudden realization that Draco was watching me hitting me like a sack of bricks. 

I cleared my throat, taking in a deep breath and stepping closer to the edge of his cot. My hands rested tentatively on the metal frame, my fingers curling open and closed around it as I met his eyes. 

"Hi." I said stupidly, and he scoffed. 

"What are you doing here?"

"Well, I think it's pretty obvious, isn't it?"

He just stared at me for a moment, looking less than interested to be having the conversation. 

"No. Please. Elaborate."

I gulped, sighing and dropping my gaze from his. 

"Well, I--" I could feel my palms beginning to sweat, "I just wanted to say thank you, for, well, you know..."

Draco's expression stayed just as stiff. As did his voice. 

"For what?"

"For saving me. I--I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't showed up."

A pause. Then Draco scoffed again, shaking his head. 

"What?" I furrowed my brows. "What did I say?"

"Don't fucking thank me." He huffed, "I didn't do anything worth thanks."

"Wha--of course you did," I thinned my eyes, "If it weren't for you--"

"I did exactly what any other person would have done." He cut me off, "What, do you think I wanted to get my hands all fucked up for you? You think I wanted to be seen as some sort of Mudblood savior?"

I just shook my head. 

"I--"

"I didn't." He flexed his fists underneath the bandages, wincing at the pain, "So don't thank me like I did something bloody outstanding."

I didn't know how to respond for a few moments, because I didn't really understand what his problem was. What he'd done for me was outstanding. Why couldn't he just accept the thanks? It wasn't like Draco to be resistant to praise.

So in the end, I reverted to my usual choice of tone. 

"What's your problem?" I shook my head, "You really can't even accept a simple thank you for saving me?"

"Did you just expect that I would let it happen?" He snapped. 

"No, and that's exactly my point." Something compelled me to step around the end of his bed, coming up beside him and glaring down at his crippled hands. "I wouldn't expect that. So I'm saying thank you."

Draco just disregarded me with another dismissive noise, turning away and refusing to meet my gaze. But I didn't care. He couldn't get rid of me that easily. 

"How did you find me?" I lowered my voice, and he glared back in my direction, thinning his eyes. 

"You were screaming, weren't you?"

"I was. But I had a gag in my mouth. You wouldn't have been able to hear me unless you were really listening for it...Maybe even from right outside the door."

I watched Draco's glare intensify more and more by the second, and if steam could have come out of his ears, it would have. I could tell he was fuming, though I wasn't sure of exactly why. 

It seemed that I'd struck some sort of nerve. 

"So how did you find me, Draco?" I asked again, refusing to back down. "Because Professor Snape isn't the only one who doesn't believe that it was just a coincidence."

"On second thought, maybe I should have just let it happen." He snapped, his fists clenching regardless of the pain, "Then you wouldn't be asking me these bloody stupid questions."

"Well, why can't you answer them?" I pressed on, "Obviously you're hiding something--"

"I'm not hiding a damn thing, you filthy little Mudblood," Draco hissed, "And if you're waiting for me to tell you that I was following you around or something, don't hold your breath. I wasn't."

"And I don't believe you."

"Believe what you want to believe." He scoffed, "It's not my fucking problem."

"God--why can't you just admit that you still care about me? At least a little bit. I still care about you, even though you've given me no reason to--"

"Well, you shouldn't." He couldn't help himself when it came to cutting me off, and he sighed dramatically, yanking the cot's sheets further up over his legs. "And while you're at it, you should stop pretending that you still know who I am. You act like some sort of fucking therapist, trying to diagnose all my bloody problems."

I softened my expression, my heart lurching towards him. And I stole a glance over at his left forearm, covered by his bloodstained undershirt, wondering what lied on the skin underneath it...

"I do know you."

"You don't," He lowered his voice, "You don't know fucking anything."

"Then tell me," I stepped closer, and for some strange reason, he flinched. 

"No." He was quick to respond, his lips a straight, thin line. "I want you to leave."

"Draco--"

"I said leave." He snapped, "Do I have to say it slower so that you'll understand?"

My pride flared up in my chest, begging to retaliate. But instead, I drew in a slow, deep breath, staying calm and faking a weak smile. 

"Fine." I managed, "I hope your hands feel better."

"And I hope you leave me the fuck alone."

I couldn't leave the room fast enough. 

So much for being grateful.


	32. Fire and Whiskey

Hiccup. 

It was freezing. But I barely felt it. The untrimmed grass rubbing against my ankles tickled a bit. 

Hiccup. 

God, firewhiskey tasted fucking awful. 

Chug. 

Another hiccup. 

The murky water up ahead gleamed like black stained glass under the bluish light of the full moon, and I stared up at it with drunken eyes, my senses smeared with the think, blurry lens of alcohol. 

The Black Lake at one in the morning was not where I'd expected myself to end up on a night like this. But then again, I'd never had a night like this before. So how should I have known what to expect?

Another hiccup, and I tripped a bit, the bottle in my fist swaying to the side and spilling a little onto the ground. I laughed out loud, to no one but myself, finding the slip up utterly hilarious as I continued to stumble towards the edge of the water, the glassy surface seeming to beckon me closer. 

I hadn't meant to get this drunk. I hadn't mean to get drunk at all, really. But I'd been sitting in my dorm, my face in my hands as I contemplated what the hell had just happened to me. 

Not only the assault. But Draco. His words. His attitude. His utter refusal to acknowledge that he cared for me at all. 

It was driving me insane. 

And it all came to a head at once, resulting in fat, ugly tears running down my face in the middle of the day, all of my dorm-mates watching from across the room with confused expressions. 

And after a while of their comforting words doing nothing to help me, they offered it. A single bottle of firewhiskey. They'd said it would help take off the edge. Make things feel a little bit more...how had she put it again? Relaxed. 

Well, that was certainly true.

I was more relaxed. 

Maybe a little too relaxed, actually. Because they hadn't told me to drink the whole bottle. Just a few sips, and I'd be set. But they'd all left the room, of course, and then it was just me and the bottle. That one, little bottle that seemed to hold the cure to those constant, nagging thoughts of mine. 

So I drank it. And then I drank some more. And then I found a stash under the girl's bed. 

And now, I was standing at the edge of the Black Lake, hiccuping and wiping my lips as the bottle pulled away from them for the hundredth time. 

Maybe it was because I was so drunk, or maybe it was because even in my altered state of mind, he was all I could think about. But regardless, as I stared down at the water below my feet, I could suddenly see his face. 

As clear as day, staring up at me. It was like I was looking into a mirror, except instead of my own reflection, I was seeing his. 

That blonde hair was there, as bleached as ever. And his tired eyes met mine, just like they always did, blinking slowly like he hadn't really closed them in a long time. But there was something different about this reflection. Something that I noticed without a seconds delay, and something that brought a feeling back to me that I hadn't felt in years. 

He was smiling.

Actually smiling. 

A real, warm smile. 

And at the sight of it, my heart crumpled. 

Because I knew as soon as I laid my eyes on it that it wasn't real. Not at all. Because the reflection was one of my own imagination. An illusion that my brain had created to torture me. To torment me into reliving happy memories that I would never hold again. 

And with a furious, painful sob, I ripped my eyes away from the surface of the water, cursing all of the bad words that my brain would come up with under my breath. But then I realized -- I was alone.

"Fuck!" I screamed, my vocal cords shredding with the sheer volume of my projection. "Fucking shit! Bloody fucking hell!"

My voice echoed across the water, the soft chirping of different insects and the singing of bullfrogs at the edge of the lake replacing my sound once it had faded into the distance. And with it, I felt as if all the energy had drained from me. Like I had nothing left. 

No anger. No pain. No anything. 

Just emptiness. 

And I had to admit, it was kind of...nice. 

Maybe this is what they'd meant, saying that the drink would take the edge off. Though it was seeming to take off more than just that. 

But the feelings came back all too quickly, and I groaned, slumping to the ground in a heap of drunken posture and tired limbs. I could feel the wind whistling softly around me, blowing the loose strands of my hair into my face and getting them caught on the wetness of my lips. 

It was still cold out, the lingering winter refusing to slip away into spring, and I could feel my teeth begging to chatter, the chill seeping through my pajama pants. But in my drunken trance, I wasn't focused on that. Instead, I closed my eyes, listening to the chirping of the insects around me, and the way the water lapped against the mossy shore. 

Every time the wind picked up a bit, the rhythm of the tiny waves followed suit, and I felt as if the sounds were lulling me into a deep sleep, my already dulled senses not helping to keep me alert. 

A few minutes passed, and my head was lulling to the side, my eyelids suddenly tired and heavy like they were being weighed down by sinking anchors in a deep, deep ocean. The bottle in my hand had fallen to the ground at some point I didn't remember, and I could smell its contents spilling into the grass below me, the sharp scent assaulting my nose. 

But that only woke me up for a second. It certainly didn't last. 

And before I knew it, I was falling. Or, not falling. Tipping, rather. Tipping forward towards the edge of the lake that I'd smartly decided to sit right at the very edge of. My intentions had been innocent. I'd just wanted to hear the water. 

But now I felt the water. 

Felt it as it engulfed me in its chilled, heart stopping blanket. Felt it as it soaked through my clothes. Drenched my hair. Swallowed my nose and mouth and stole the air from my lungs. 

And suddenly, I was afraid for my life. 

My reaction was delayed. Too delayed. But I jerked -- tried to move my arms in a way that would bring me to the surface. But for some reason, my limbs felt like lead, heavy with alcohol and exhaustion, and my efforts fell short of success. 

I kicked my legs -- another attempt. But just like the last, it failed, and I could feel the water growing colder and colder the deeper I sank, being weighed down by the thick winter jacket around my chest. 

In my panic, I felt my mouth open. And though the sound was drowned out instantly, being heard by no one but myself, I screamed. Screamed like it would somehow save me from the impending doom I was facing. 

But all that resulted from it was a giant breath of lake water flooding into my windpipe, and I choked, trying to suck in more air that wasn't available. 

And before I knew it, I was drowning. Really drowning. The kind of drowning they describe when they're teaching kids about the worst case scenario. When you breathe in water, and it fills your lungs until you couldn't ever possibly take another inhalation of air again. 

The lake swallowed me whole, and I was no match for its freezing fingertips, yanking me deeper and deeper with every passing moment. 

And eventually, I closed my eyes. 

I don't remember anything else from being in the water. 

My recollection only started again when I was back on the shore, my eyes shooting open as what seemed like gallons of water coughed back up through my throat. 

I vomited the tasteless liquid into the grass, retching violently until I couldn't anymore, gasping for any air I could find and digging my fingertips into the frosty dirt, feeling hot tears slide down my cheeks at the realization that I was back on solid ground. 

I was alive. I was alive. I was alive. I was--

"Breathe."

The voice shocked me. Because up until that moment, I hadn't realized that I was no longer alone. If I'd been in the right state of mind, maybe it would have been obvious. Because clearly, someone had pulled me from the water. 

Someone had saved my life. 

But up until then, I hadn't thought about it. 

When you've just escaped death, you see, you tend not to think very critically. 

"Focus on breathing."

Suddenly, part of me wished that I had drowned. 

Because out of the corner of my eye, I could see something. Bandages. Two, soggy white bandages, wrapped tightly around slender, pale hands, stained with blotches of bloody red. 

And I knew that voice. Maybe better than I knew my own. 

Draco was haunched over beside me, his clothes sopping wet and clinging desperately to his skin, water dripping from the ends of his hair and meeting the grass below him. 

I retched again, more than just water coming up this time -- a result of my quickly-downed bottles of firewhiskey -- and instinctively tried to turn away from Draco's view. Even in my state of drunken confusion, I knew that I didn't want him to see me like this. 

A few gags later, and I could finally breathe again, letting the air flood into my lungs and replace the liquid that had settled there. 

"Just breathe." Draco repeated again, and for a second, I thought that I almost caught a quiver in his voice. But I must have been imagining it. I could barely understand what was going on in my own head, much less try to analyze anyone else. 

"What--" Another gag. My voice was a whisper of what it usually was. "What happened?"

"You tried to fucking drown yourself." He hissed, sounding half furious and half...concerned?

"No--" I shook my head weakly, "No, I didn't."

"What then?" His tone was demanding, and I flinched away, though his face and its expression were still hidden in the darkness. 

"I--" Hiccup. Then another cough. There was no use in lying to him now, though the truth was embarrassing. 

I got ridiculously wasted because I don't know how to handle the fact that I'm in love with someone who hates the idea of me -- seemed like too much. So I just went with the simple explanation. 

"Firewhiskey."

"Bloody hell," He muttered under his breath, "I knew I recognized that smell." He made a sniffing noise. "What the fuck did you do, bathe in it?"

"I spilled it on the grass." I got out quickly before another retch consumed me, sending a nauseated shiver through my body as I emptied what was left of my stomach onto the ground. 

"It'll pass," Draco murmured after a few more gags, twisting a long piece of grass between his fingertips, "Just let it out."

"You do this a lot, do you?" I breathed, and he scoffed softly, throwing the blade back to the dirt. 

"Used to. Don't have much of a taste for it now."

"I don't either."

"Oh, I can tell."

A ghost of a smile crossed my lips before I caught myself, clearing my throat and feeling the biting sting of vomit near my tonsils. 

"You've got to get out of those clothes."

I froze, his words catching me off guard. 

"What?"

"Those clothes. They're sopping wet, and it's just above freezing out here."

"Oh--" I gulped, "Yeah. You're probably right."

"I'm always right." He quickly corrected me, "Now come on."

With a shivering hand, he reached for my arm, and I felt my blood go as cold as the water I'd just been submerged in. Because the movement felt suddenly foreign, even though the idea of him was all I wanted. Somehow, it still seemed...wrong. 

I felt myself flinch away before I caught the impulse, and Draco's hand stalled. 

"Can you stand up on your own?" He cleared his throat, rescinding the offer, and I nodded weakly. 

"I--" Hiccup. "I think so."

"Come on then." He pushed himself off the ground, standing and placing his hands on his waist as he waited for me to do the same. And though I still felt just as unstable as before I'd fallen, I stood. Well, stood is an exaggeration. I wasn't sitting anymore. Let's leave it at that. 

"No," Draco immediately shook his head.

"What?"

"Are you bloody insane? You're never going to make it back to the castle leaning over like that. You look like the fucking Hunchback of Notre Dame."

"I do not."

"You do." He scoffed, and suddenly, without warning, reached his arm over to me, wrapping it tightly around my waist and yanking me close to his side. My eyes went wide with shock, but I stayed silent, as did Draco, who's body was as cold as ice as I touched it. 

It was like he was completely frozen underneath the thin layer of clothing over his chest, and I stole quick glances out of the corners of my eyes, catching hints of pale beige underneath the white cotton. 

"Just because you're drunk doesn't mean you don't know how to walk." He grumbled from above, his face pointed straight ahead and his eyes refusing to glance down at me.

"Sorry." I whispered, focusing all of my energy on my two feet, which were seeming to try and go in every direction except the right one. 

Draco dragged me back to the castle painstaking step by painstaking step, muttering curse words under his breath every time I tripped or stalled in the tiniest way. And each time I would apologize, even though I'm not sure that he even heard me, so frustrated by the time we reached the entrance that he was mumbling full sentences to himself about how insufferable I was being. 

And it only occurred to me that he still had two broken hands once we were inside, the torch-lit hallways shedding light on the red blotches in his bandages. Though if he felt it at all, he pretended not to. The only real sign that he was in pain came from the occasional grimace on his face, which honestly could have been confused for his usual frowning expression.

Our footsteps were accompanied by the sloshing of water dripping off our clothes as he led me down the halls of the castle, and I shivered every few seconds, the adrenaline of the traumatic moment beginning to wear off and leaving the repercussions behind. 

"If I get fucking hypothermia from this," Draco hissed, "I'm swear, I'm going to drown you myself."

"Charming." My teeth began to chatter violently, and I swallowed back the sudden urge to retch again. But a few moments of fighting it back, and it disappeared, leaving only the pale hue of my complexion behind. 

I was sure that my lips had turned blue by the time he finally dragged me through the wide archway of the library entrance, and I furrowed my brows confusedly, glancing up at him. 

"The library?" I questioned. Hiccup. "Why--"

"Shut up, will you?" He cut me off, yanking me again as I slowed, "You'll see soon enough."

And I did. 

The fireplace roared to life as he flicked his wand lazily in front of him, muttering a spell under his breath and turning his back to me. The warmth hit me like a wave of relief, and I shivered with a sigh, feeling it cure the goosebumps skittering over my arms and legs from the water's icy bite. 

He'd forced me into a cushioned seat in front of the furnace, and I rubbed my hands together quickly, trying to bring any more warmth to my body as the lake water finally started to dry. 

Draco stood motionless in front of me, his arms hanging by his sides as the fire warmed him, the orangey color of it reflecting against the tips of his white hair. And it made the outline of his body seem to glow like it had an angel's halo around it. 

Funny, I thought to myself. 

If anything, I'd expect to see horns. 

"Are you trying to get yourself killed?" He finally spoke, and I looked up from the floor, continuing to rub my hands together. 

"No. It was an accident."

"An accident." He scoffed, shaking his head, "You're fucking unbelievable."

"It was." I insisted, "I was sitting by the edge of the water, and I fell in. By accident."

"Did it not occur to you that sitting right by the edge might not be the best idea when you're wasted?"

I paused, looking ashamedly down at my lap. 

"No."

"Of course it didn't." He laughed to himself -- the kind of disappointed, huff of a laugh that people use when they just can't believe what you've done. "Why am I not surprised?"

I pinched my eyebrows together, frowning.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that I'm sick of having to rescue you. How many times has it been...three now?"

"I never asked you to rescue me, did I?" I protested, "You're just always -- there."

"Wrong place at the wrong time, I guess." He mumbled, and I scoffed. 

"Bullshit."

He turned around, his eyes razor thin as they focused on me. 

"Well, what's your theory then?"

"My theory?" I raised my eyebrows, "My theory is that you're following me."

Draco huffed, like it was the craziest thing I'd ever said. 

"Following you?"

"Yes, following me." I hissed. "First, you show up outside the library at midnight when I'm studying with Hermione. Then, you just happen to stumble on that boy assaulting me. And now, you pull me out of a fucking lake at one in the morning. I'm sorry Draco, but there is no way in hell that all three of those are coincidences."

He didn't speak for what felt like years, his icy blue eyes staring back at me like daggers. But I just glared back, refusing to relent, and eventually, he turned away with a scoff, making me feel more than proud. 

He slumped down into the chair next to me, his arms up on the sides and his slender fingers gripping the wooden edges. 

"So what if I was following you?" He finally muttered, "It doesn't mean anything."

I watched him, flicking my eyes from his face, then to his chest, rising and falling slowly with every breath, to his hands, bandaged and stained with blood. My voice was a whisper as I responded. 

"I don't believe that, Draco."

His jaw quivered. 

"I told you not to do that."

"Do what?"

"Say my name like that." His voice had the same aggravated tone to it, but now, it almost sounded like it was trying to cover something else up. Something more...real. He stared blankly at the roaring fire only a few feet away, shifting in his seat and moving right to the edge. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs and his chin on his knuckles. 

But it only lasted for a second, because he quickly remembered that his hands were broken, wincing with pain as his chin touched them. He recoiled, slumping back into the chair with an exasperated grumble. 

"Does it hurt terribly?" I whispered, and he glanced over at me like he'd forgotten I was there. 

"No." He lied, "Just sore."

I paused for a moment, quickly debating on whether I really wanted to say the words that were forming on the tip of my tongue. Luckily, my critical thinking skills were still dulled by my drunken state, so my ability to reason before I spoke was also...dulled. 

"I remember everything, you know." I muttered, the crackling of the fire nearly drowning out my voice. But he heard me, turning to meet my eyes. "Everything you've ever said to me."

His lips parted slightly, and he drew in a sharp breath. 

"You probably have some things you'd like me to apologize for, then."

"Yes." I nodded weakly, "Most definitely."

Draco's mouth curled up into the tiniest of smirks, and I could feel his gaze flickering over my face, settling on my lips for the briefest of moments. 

"Draco," I whispered, drawing his attention back to my eyes, "What happened to us?"

"What kind of a question is that?" His voice lowered, the tone matching mine. "You know what happened. We grew up."

Maybe it was the drunken, over heightened emotions. Maybe it was the look on his face, the most vulnerable that I'd seen it in two years. Or maybe it was the dull pain in my chest, growing stronger by the second. But suddenly, the corners of my eyes were brimming with tears. 

"I didn't want to."

Half of me thought that I imagined it, but for a second, I almost could have sworn that I saw Draco's walls fall. His eyes softened. His frown lessened. His eyebrows relaxed. Those worry lines on his forehead disappeared. And he was left as he used to be. How I remembered him. 

But it was gone a moment later, and he tightened his jaw, his eyes leaving mine like they'd never been connected in the first place. 

"Things have changed." He muttered, "I've changed."

"Yes," I nodded, "You have. But in other ways...you haven't."

He looked back. I continued. 

"You get the same look on your face when you're worried about something. Or angry. And your eyes are the same. I mean, of course they are. But not like that. They're the same in other ways. Like when you look at me...and I see the person I knew years ago."

Draco paused, his expression unreadable. 

"Does it ever feel like decades to you?"

"Since...?"

"Since we've been together."

"Oh," I swallowed, my heart beat picking up, "Yes. Definitely longer than two years."

"Two years." Draco echoed, his tone hollow and empty, "I didn't think things could change so quickly in two bloody years."

A pause. 

"What's changed, Draco?"

He just shook his head.

"Everything."

Another pause. 

"Some things haven't."

It was only then that I noticed how close our faces were. Only a few inches, if I had to guess. And all at once, I could feel everything that I used to feel. Everything I used to take for granted. 

The sweet smell of his cologne, somehow still sticking to his skin after being drenched in lake water. 

The way his lips parted -- just barely -- as he breathed. 

The curve of his jawline. So sharp. So perfectly shaped. 

The strands of his hair falling into his eyes, like tiny threads of spun gold. 

And how bloody impossible it was to resist kissing him. 

"I miss you." I heard myself whisper.

The words hung in the air like they were waiting to be shattered, the tension so palpable that I could have cut through it with my fingernails. But Draco just stared. Stared for far too long. Stared until I was afraid that he'd forgotten how to speak at all. 

But then he sighed in the tiniest exhale, his lids dropping tiredly. 

"You shouldn't."

"Maybe not," I inched closer to his face, and he didn't flinch away. "But I do. And I--" I watched as he wet his bottom lip, "I can't stop."

A few more seconds, and we were millimeters apart. So close that I could feel his breath against my cheek. 

"Draco," I whispered, the smell of peppermint and cologne so amazingly intoxicating that I thought I might faint, "Tell me to stop."

"Don't," He muttered, the words barely forming on his lips, and for a moment, my heart dropped. But then, he finished the sentence, "Say my name like that."

I could feel my heart slamming -- my pulse in my throat. My hands were shaking like they never had. I could feel every nerve, pricking in anticipation. Every emotion. Every ounce of terror. 

He was so close to me. Just millimeters now. So close. So close. So--

Pop. 

The fire hissed loudly, shooting a spark out onto the library floor and startling us both back to reality. Draco was the first to recover, jumping out of his seat and kicking the still burning coal back into the furnace, scuffing the ashy mark it had left on the ground with the bottom of his shoe. He shook his head, turning away from me and resting his hands on his waist. 

But I couldn't move. Not at all. Because my mind was reeling, spinning out of control with the rest of my emotions. 

What the fuck had just happened? Or almost happened. 

Why didn't it happen?

"Bloody hell, it's late." Draco mumbled, glancing at a tall stand up clock by the wall. "I didn't realize how long we've been sitting here."

"Mhm." I made a small noise in acknowledgement, though I was barely paying attention, shaking my head slightly in disbelief. 

"I have to be back in the infirmary before that bitch realizes I'm missing." He turned back to me, though he actively avoided my eye contact, keeping his on the ground. "You can walk by now, I'm sure."

I nodded weakly, though I really didn't know if I could, and he grabbed his wand from his pocket, waving it quickly and killing the fire with ease. It was reduced to smoking ash in moments, the warmth being sucked from the room like a vacuum, and I shivered, watching Draco as he turned his back to me once more. 

"So that's it?" I blurted, unable to bite my tongue any longer. "You're just...leaving?"

"What, did you expect me to stay with you all night?" He straightened the slightly damp shirt over his chest, "I can't be caught sneaking around."

"Right." I said sharply, looking down at my lap and feeling the familiar painful lurch in my ribcage. "Don't know why I'm surprised."

Draco paused, then glanced slightly over his shoulder. In the pale moonlight filtering in through the windows, I could just make out the gleaming of his eye. 

"I don't know why, either."

He was gone within moments, his long legs carrying him out into the hallway before I could blink. 

And it was only after he'd disappeared that I realized: I'd forgotten to look at his wrist when the shirt was wet and translucent.

But maybe deep down, I'd forgotten on purpose.


	33. I Still Hate You

"Cassia."

I wondered what would have happened if the fire hadn't popped. 

"Cassia?"

Maybe he would have really done it. Maybe he would have kissed me. Maybe--

"Cass!"

Hermione's voice snapped me abruptly out of my trance, and I looked up with wide eyes, my mouth half full with a piece of toast. 

"What?"

"What is with you today?" She laughed, "Have you been listening to a word I've been saying?"

"Definitely." I lied, "You were talking about your potions project or something. Right?"

"Lucky guess." She raised her brows, resting her elbows on the table and sighing. "Anyway..."

She talked about it for a few more minutes, droning on about details I couldn't possibly absorb. But I just nodded encouragingly, a fake smile on my lips as she joked about her partner's inability to add the right amount of each ingredient. 

But while she talked, I realized something. I still hadn't told her about the assault. 

I'd wanted to, at first. But now, the thought of saying it out loud seemed like too much to bear. Because I knew exactly what her response would be. And I wasn't in the mood for pity. 

I could tell her about the lake, though. But only the parts she would understand. 

"So, 'Mione," I began, interrupting her monologue and catching her eyes, "I...I need to tell you something."

"Okay?" She said suspiciously, her eyes thinning. 

"Look, it's not a big deal or anything," I shook my head, "But late last night, I -- well, I drank a little too much. And for some reason, I ended up going down to the Black Lake."

"The Black Lake?" She straightened her spine, frowning, "That seems like an odd place to go."

"Definitely," I nodded, "But just listen. It was dark, and I was drunk, and I accidentally fell in."

Her eyes went wide. 

"You fell in?!"

"Yes, and I kind of...started to drown."

They went even wider. So I quickly continued. 

"But don't freak out. I didn't."

She rolled her eyes, scoffing. 

"Well, obviously."

"It's just --" I paused, "I didn't get out of it on my own. Someone saved me."

"Who the bloody hell was down by the Black Lake at that time of night?"

I hesitated, his name waiting on the tip of my tongue. I drew in a sharp breath, banishing my hesitations and spitting it out. 

"Malfoy."

I watched Hermione's face. Watched it closely. Looked for any flicker of something. Something that signaled that she'd figured it out. But instead, her eyes just thinned, and she pressed her lips together in a tight line. 

"Malfoy."

I nodded. 

"Really." It was more of a statement of disbelief than a question, but I nodded again anyway. 

"Yes."

Then she turned away from me, shaking her head. 

"What?"

"It's just -- it's a little unbelievable."

"I'm telling the truth."

"No, no. I don't doubt that it happened, even though the circumstances are more than strange. I just can't believe that he did it."

"What, you expected him to just let me drown?"

"Honestly?" She turned back, "Yes. Especially now."

I blinked confusedly. 

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Have you forgotten who--" She hesitated, wincing, "You-Know-Who's primary targets are?"

I just stared blankly at her, and she continued. 

"Mudbloods." She hissed through clenched teeth, "People like you and me."

"I know, but--"

"And if Malfoy is a Death Eater now, then him saving you of all people would be unbelievable."

I stalled, trying to give her some sort of logical excuse. The truth was off the table, of course. Just like it had always been. And the reaction she was having to this small amount of information wasn't encouraging either. 

"I guess you're right." I finally nodded, my palms sweating nervously, "It is unbelievable."

"Why was he there?" She shook her head, and when I only shrugged, she continued. "I mean, I'm bloody glad he was. I don't know what I would have done if--" She paused, exhaling slowly and seeming to banish the rest of the sentence with it. "Sorry. I'm just...a little shocked."

"Yeah," I breathed, "Me too."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I didn't know why I'd come here, of all places. 

If anything, this should have been the last place I would have wanted to revisit. 

But here I was, staring out across the glimmering lake's surface far below my feet, the mountains reaching up towards the sky all around me. 

I gripped the metal railing tightly, hoping that it would provide me with some sort of stability. It seemed that stability was the one thing I was craving more than ever, now. And the one thing I couldn't seem to find. 

It had warmed up a bit from a few nights before. Granted, it wasn't nearly as late. Only about six o'clock. The sun was still visible over the tops of the mountains, and it provided at least a decent amount of warmth, its rays reflecting against my eyes and imprinting sunspots on the backs of my lids. 

But a faint gust of wind, and I was transported right back to that day two years before. When I'd been standing in the same place, my feet right on the edge of the astronomy tower's balcony and my fingers curled around the railing. 

I could almost still feel the crisp chill of the snow, and the slamming of my heart as I'd waited for him to show up. And though my heart still beat just as fast at the thought of him, this time, I knew he wasn't coming. 

I was alone. Really alone. 

And I still hated it just as much as when he'd walked away that night, pausing at the top of the staircase and telling me that he was giving me one more reason to hate him.

But that was just it. 

I didn't hate him. 

I never really had. 

The minutes slipped by like seconds, and I couldn't seem to tear my eyes away from the scene in front of me. There was something so tranquil about it. So safe. Like no matter what happened, that lake -- those mountain -- the sun -- they would always be there. No one could take them away, no matter how hard they tried. 

And it was nice to think about. The idea of something being unchangeable. Secure. 

I only wished life was that way. 

Maybe love, too. 

Yes, that would be nice. That would be--

"Mudblood?"

The voice started me, and I whipped around, Draco's blank face meeting my gaze with the immediate skipping of my pulse. 

"Bloody hell, you shouldn't sneak up on people like that." I snapped defensively, quickly blinking away the mistiness that had appeared in my eyes. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Didn't know you were up here." He said plainly, "Usually I'm the only one."

"Well last time I checked, you don't own the astronomy tower. So maybe you should prepare yourself for the possibility that you might run into people." My tone was harsh. Hissed. I just hoped that he didn't see through it. Hoped he wouldn't see what it was guarding. 

I whipped back around, my chest rising and falling with quick breaths as I forced my eyes back out over the lake. 

I was getting pretty fed up with the new trend of him appearing whenever I wasn't prepared to face him. 

"You know, I'd really like to be alone right now." I called over my shoulder, "If you don't mind."

"I do." He blinked emotionlessly, as if the short conversation was already boring him, "But don't worry, I'm not here to speak to you."

"Brilliant." I rolled my eyes, "I'll just...pretend you're not here."

Maybe he nodded in agreement, but I couldn't see him from behind me. So I just pretended that he did. 

The wind picked up a bit as his footsteps moved away from the place they'd been planted, towards the railing a good ways away from me. And out of the corner of my eye, I could see him wrap his pale hands around the metal barrier, his fingers flexing as he touched the cold surface.

And there were no bandages around his knuckles, I quickly realized. They were gone now, leaving only his bare skin behind. And even as I squinted to try and get a better look, I couldn't see any sign of scarring or damage. I raised my eyebrows, huffing. 

Madame Pomfrey had done a good job. 

His black suit was on, as usual. And he'd done nothing to help himself warm up more. No scarf. No gloves. Just the suit, and nothing else. I supposed that with blood as cold as his, he didn't feel the chill. 

The wind ruffled his carefully combed hair a bit, and his jaw tightened, showing off his sharp, defined bone structure. And that was when I noticed that it looked like he'd lost a little bit of weight. At least in his face. His cheeks were just barely more hollowed out, and his eye sockets seemed to sink in a bit more from the rest of his face. 

And those worry lines were still visible on his forehead. Maybe they were permanent now. 

A quick, stolen glance over at his left wrist, and it revealed nothing, the skin covered fully with the sleeve of his suit. 

But it seemed that I'd been looking for a bit too long, because with a annoyed quirk of his brow, he turned towards me, his lips pulled into a deep frown. 

"I thought you were pretending that I wasn't here."

"I am." I said plainly, "You're just blocking my view of the mountains."

"Ah yes," He said sarcastically, "The mountains. Good thing they're not moving any time soon."

I tightened my jaw, wanting to say something snippy back. But nothing would come to mind, and I blamed it on the eye contact. I could never focus when I was looking into his stupid, gorgeous eyes. 

A few moments passed, and then I spoke again. 

"I didn't know that you still came up here."

"I didn't know you did either."

The sun was starting to go down now. Slowly, but surely. 

"I guess we don't know much about each other anymore."

"Suppose not."

I could hear the soft chirping of some sort of bird. Maybe spring was coming quicker than I thought. 

Another moment passed, and then something compelled me to shuffle closer. Just a tiny bit. So tiny that he wouldn't be able to tell. 

"Funny, isn't it?" I glanced in his direction. 

"What's funny?"

"This." I gestured to nothing in particular. "Us. Back here."

"Hm." He grunted softly, "I didn't think much of it."

"Of course you didn't," I smiled painfully, "You never do."

Draco's eyes thinned a bit, but he continued to stare out at the horizon line. 

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm just saying I'm not surprised, is all," I picked at a thread in my sweater, pulling it until it slipped out of place and started to unravel other pieces with it. "You know, with your seeming ignorance of what's happened in the past."

"I know what happened in the past," He grumbled, "Maybe I just don't want to think about it."

"Yeah," I huffed, "I don't want to think about it either."

Another tiny step closer, and then it hit me. The faint, almost unnoticeable scent of something. And it wasn't the usual smell of cologne and peppermint. It wasn't something I would have recognized at all if I hadn't experienced it just a few night before, and my eyes went wide, the realization hitting me shockingly. 

Firewhisky. 

Was he drunk?

He didn't look it, but then again, I wasn't exactly sure what drunk Draco Malfoy would look like. I could hardly imagine that it would be much different than how he usually acted. Maybe just a bit more unfiltered -- which couldn't be good. 

"I thought you said you didn't drink much anymore?" I asked suddenly, and he flicked an aggravated look in my direction, scoffing. 

"You never were good at minding your business, were you?"

"I'm just curious."

"I'm sure."

Another step closer. 

"The attitude really isn't necessary," I slid my hand along the railing, now annoyed with the hole I'd created in my sweater, "I'm just trying to understand what's going on with you."

"I didn't ask you to try and understand anything," He snapped, "In fact, I think I told you to leave me alone."

"Good thing I never listen to what you tell me to do." I smiled in a way that I knew would piss him off. And I was right. He clenched his jaw again, taking in a sharp breath through his nose and gripping the railing with more force. "You should know that by now."

"So maybe I should have said that I wanted you around." He grumbled. 

"Maybe."

Another step. He had to know what I was doing by now, but he didn't move away. I could smell the firewhiskey even stronger now, the sharp scent assaulting my nose. 

"I could help you, you know?"

He said nothing. 

"I like to think I'm a pretty good listener. I won't judge, I promise. No matter how bad it is."

Again, no response. But I liked to believe that I saw something flicker in his irises.

"Draco." 

At the mention of his name, he finally whipped his head in my direction, his chest rising and falling quickly. I could tell he was fuming. Maybe even near his breaking point. Though I still wasn't exactly sure why. Nevertheless, I was determined to find out. 

"Please." I took one more obvious step towards him, only a few feet away now. I could have reached out and touched him if I'd wanted to. "You're in pain. I can see it as clearly as I see myself in the mirror."

For the third time, he failed to speak. His eye twitched, and his grip tightened again on the railing. 

I sighed, shaking my head solemnly. 

"Look," I refused to drop his gaze, even though he was doing that thing again. That thing where he tried to force me to look away. I wasn't sure why he kept trying it. It had never worked, and it wasn't about to now. "I know you've given me no reason to care about you. Okay? I know that."

There it was again. That flicker in his eyes. 

"But it doesn't matter to me. No matter how horribly you treat me, it's not going to change a single thing. Because I know none of it's real."

His knuckles had turned white from how tightly he was gripping the rail. I thought his bones might break again. 

"You've saved my life not once, but twice now. And I don't believe for a second that they were coincidences. You followed me to that dorm room. And you followed me to the lake. Admit it."

Silence, but his lip twitched upwards. 

"Admit it."

"Fine." He hissed, the sound of his voice slicing through the wind, "I followed you. Is that what you want to hear? Do you think that that changes anything? Anything at all?"

"Yes. I do." I stepped nearer again, more confidently this time. I was close to him now. Dangerously close. And neither of us pulled away. Maybe it was his stubbornness, but I hoped that there were also other reasons. "And if you want to deny that, give me a good reason for why you did it."

He stalled, his expression looking angrier and angrier by the second. 

"I don't have a bloody reason," He seethed.

"Yeah," I whispered, "That's what I thought."

"I could throw you off the side of this tower if I wanted to." He suddenly snapped, his eyes wild with rage. "It would be easy."

Hermione's words instantly echoed through my memory -- If Malfoy is a Death Eater now, then him saving you of all people would be unbelievable.

"You're right." I refused to let him scare me away. "You could. But you won't."

"What makes you so sure?" This time, he was the one to move closer, his gaze like war. "All it would take would be a little push."

"Do it, then." I challenged him, my heart slamming with some sort of adrenaline. "I won't believe you until you do it."

"It won't do you much good by then." He glowered, "You'll only have a few seconds to realize that you were wrong all along."

"Oh well," We were so close. So close that I could smell the firewhiskey like the bottle was right under my nose. "Guess that's the consequence I'll have to face."

My words were the last for an excruciating amount of time. Looking back, I'm sure it was no more than ten seconds. But in the moment, it felt like an eternity. And then I spoke again. But about something different.

"What would have happened the other night? What would have happened if the fire hadn't popped?"

Draco's eyes scanned up and down my face like a laser. He was studying me. Analyzing every blink of my eyes. Every movement of my lips. Every strand of my hair that blew in the wind. 

"That's a ridiculous question."

"Why?" Closer again. There wasn't much farther I could go until I would run into his chest. "I know what I would have done."

His teeth were bared when he spoke again. 

"What's that?"

And that was it. 

Because just as the words left his mouth, our eyes locked in a certain way. The way they always do before it happens. It's a wordless, immediately understandable agreement. And it happened in the split second it took for me to raise my hands from my sides, reaching forward with shocking, unusual confidence and grabbing him square by the collar of his suit. 

I yanked him towards me. 

I felt his spine curve down in compliance. 

And a second later, my mouth was on his. 

Instantly, his tongue was suffocating me, his hands shooting into my hair and guiding my head to the side. I followed his lead, moaning softly against his lips as I fully opened myself up to him, my nerves feeling as though they were all exploding at once. 

It was like a tidal wave of sensations. 

His mouth -- wet and hot on mine. 

His hands -- still as cold as they always were, tangled in the waves of my hair and yanking softly at my scalp. 

His tongue, curving over my bottom lip and making me shiver like a leaf in the wind. 

And the flowering of something in my abdomen, sending what I could only describe as butterflies through my core. 

"I still hate you," He gasped into the space of my mouth, "This doesn't change anything."

"Okay," I nodded feverishly, "Okay, okay, okay..." My words barely sounded like english by the time they left my lips, partially because I couldn't concentrate on anything but him, and partially because my tongue was more preoccupied with other things. 

He was still furious. That was embarrassingly evident. 

His kiss was angry. Aggressive. Like he was somehow trying to beat me at making out. And he was breathing like someone was yanking the air from his lungs. At some moments, I was afraid that he might hyperventilate. 

His hands had moved on from my hair, now sliding down my neck and chest, gripping tightly at whatever he could find. First my throat, which nearly make my knees give out underneath me. Then the collar of my sweater, feeling the fabric between his thumbs and forefingers and pulling it towards him. 

Then he moved lower. He found my breasts. And he didn't hesitate for a moment, sliding his palms over my nipples and gripping my flesh from over the sweater. 

I moaned softly against his mouth, which still hadn't hadn't skipped a beat in the intensity of the kiss, even with his efforts now focused elsewhere. 

"If I told you to take off your shirt right now," He smiled devilishly against me, "I'll bet you'd do it."

"I would." I managed, gasping as his mouth suddenly left mine and trailed down my chin and neck. "Is that what you want?"

"I--"

"Ahem." 

We both jolted, yanking away from each other faster than we'd ever moved before and staring in equally horrified expressions towards the source of the sound. And whoever I'd been expecting to see was nowhere near as bad as who had actually appeared. 

Professor Snape's dark eyes met mine like he was trying to cast a spell on me without words, and I felt as though all the blood in my body had drained into nonexistence. 

I could hardly bring myself to steal a glance over at Draco, who had turned even paler than usual, his hue a deathly-looking white color. 

And his hands were shaking. I wasn't sure if I'd ever seen them do that before. 

Honestly, though, I wasn't sure of anything in that moment. All I could think about was whatever Snape was planning to do next. 

What had he seen? What had he heard? How bloody long had he been standing there?

"Mr. Malfoy..." He said lowly, his voice threaded with something I didn't recognize. Maybe anger? But it wasn't exactly that. "I thought I might find you here."

"Professor." Draco addressed him with a weak nod, still trying to sound unafraid, it seemed. But it wasn't really working. Not with the color he'd turned. 

"I expected you to be alone, however." Snape muttered, turning his gaze with painful slowness in my direction. "Miss Woodwick, you are aware that it's dangerously close to sunset?"

"Yes, sir." I gulped, "I -- I was just about to head back to my dorm."

Snape looked entirely unconvinced. His response was even more drawn out than usual, and drenched heavily in sarcasm. 

"Clearly."

Awkward silence ensued, and Snape only continued to glance between the two of us until he spoke again. 

"If you don't mind, Miss Woodwick, I must request that I be able to speak with Mr. Malfoy...alone."

"Oh, yes, of course." I nodded overaggressively, reaching for a coat that I hadn't ever taken off. I rolled my eyes at myself, cursing under my breath. My mind was too scrambled to function. "I'll be going now."

Snape said nothing else as I scurried past him, my heart slamming with a mixture of adrenaline and embarrassment. I felt his eyes follow me as I slid towards the staircase, and I cringed as soon as my back was turned, my face going as pink and red as the sunset behind me. 

But once the feeling of being watched dissipated, I stole a glance over my shoulder, watching Snape step towards Draco with one long stride and cornering him against the railing. And his terrified eye only caught mine for a split second before Snape's shoulder blocked his line of sight, separating us with a wall of black robes. 

I wondered if he tried to watch me leave as I ran down the stairs, somehow still feeling more alive than I had in years.


	34. Back Again?

I hadn't seen him in a week. 

A whole, impossibly long, incredibly infuriating week. 

And what was worse, I had no earthly idea of where he'd disappeared to. Not one clue. It was like he'd just vanished like smoke without a trace, and I seemed to be the only one concerned with his disappearance. 

"Maybe his father made him go back home for a little while," I posited to Hermione, who made a small noise in agreement, though I could tell she wasn't really listening. She had her nose buried in a thick, worn book, her eyes scanning feverishly over the page. "Something to do with his new duties to You-Know-Who."

"Uh-huh." She mumbled distractedly, and I groaned, shoving her in the shoulder and bringing her attention back to me. 

"Come on, seriously. I'm curious."

"I don't know any more than you do." She snapped the book shut, bringing it to her chest, "And just so you know, I'm reading this book to try and get some answers on that very subject."

I furrowed my brows, glancing down at the spine. 

The Dark Arts; Origins and Explanations -- it read in shiny gold font, and I reached for it, plucking it out of her arms. 

"Where did you find this?" I flipped it open, scanning my eyes over the first few pages. 

"In the restricted section of the library," Hermione lowered her voice, "Harry let me borrow his invisibility cloak a few nights ago."

"Bloody hell, 'Mione," I smiled at her, "Breaking the rules now, are we?"

"Ah yes," She laughed under her breath, "I suppose I'm just as bad as Malfoy by this point."

"So, what does this have to do with him, anyway?" I muttered, "I mean, aside from the obvious."

"I thought maybe it would have some information on the dark mark. How it's created. And I wondered if--" She paused, biting her lip, "If it's reversible."

"And?"

"And, nothing." She sighed, "Doesn't seem that people know very much about it."

"Guess we'd just have to talk to a Death Eater, then."

I said it as a joke. But just as soon as the words left my lips, Hermione's eyes met mine in an instant, and I was sure that the same thought popped into both of our heads. 

Snape. 

"No." I shook my head, "No, no, no, that's a horrible idea."

"Is it?" She raised her brows, "I mean, what's the worst that could happen?"

"Are you seriously suggesting that we risk getting in trouble with a professor?" I shook my head, "Who are you and what the hell have you done with Hermione Granger?"

"Desperate times call for desperate measures." She shrugged, "I don't love the idea. But it seems like the only one on the table at the moment. Unless you have any other suggestions?"

I chewed at my bottom lip, contemplating for a moment and quickly coming to hate the fact that she was right. She was usually right. 

"Fine." I snipped, "I'll ask Snape. But if this goes south, just know it's your fault."

"I'll keep that in mind," She snatched the book back from me, cracking it open to a bookmarked page and beginning to read again. There was no more talking to her after that. Two years of friendship had taught me not to interrupt her research. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Black Lake looked different in the daylight. The grass around its shore seemed taller and more untrimmed, or maybe it was just that I hadn't noticed it before. And the water seemed much more black, like someone had poured gallons and gallons of ink into its murky depths. 

I huffed to myself. It suited its name. 

The thought of swimming in it -- or drowning, rather -- like I'd done a few nights before, made my skin crawl, and I realized that I'd started to breathe more deeply as I stared out across the water. I'd come to appreciate air more now. The ability to breathe it in. 

Losing that privilege for just a short amount of time was, in a word, traumatizing. I didn't intend to take it for granted again. 

The wind blew softly around me, but it wasn't very cold anymore. Spring had appeared in the short period since the week before, the dull colors of fall fading away into more brightly pigmented hues. And I had to admit, it was refreshing. You can only look at leafless, barren trees for so long until it gets depressing. 

Wandering aimlessly around the shore, I wondered if the bottle I'd left was still lying abandoned in the grass. But I couldn't seem to find the spot where I remembered falling in, and with a sigh, I tucked my hands into the pockets of my jeans, giving up. 

Though the idea of the water was now more terrifying than ever, I couldn't deny how beautiful it was to look out over its wide expanse, wondering what creatures lied underneath the surface. Though I preferred to stay as far away from them as possible. 

I stepped to a shady, comfortable looking spot underneath a tall tree, resting my back against its trunk and feeling the bumpy wood press into my spine. Not so comfortable after all. 

With a groan, I slid downward until I was sitting in an upright position on the dirt, my arms falling into my lap and playing with the hem of my sleeve. And for a while, I just sat there. 

I didn't do anything, really. 

Just counted the reeds along the shoreline and followed a line of ants crawling over a log with my eyes. 

That was until the sound startled me. The sound of crunching leaves under heavy boots, and someone's jacket arms rubbing against the fabric over their chest.

And sure enough, seconds later, a figure emerged from behind the tree, a long black coat pulled around their torso and a hunter green tie catching my eyes. 

"Back again, Mudblood?" Draco didn't look down at me as he spoke, and I could feel my breath hitching in my throat, the fresh memory of his hands on my body -- his lips on mine -- the smell of peppermint and cologne -- overwhelming me all at once. "How are we going to try and kill ourselves today? Let's not pick the drowning again, if possible. I happen to like this jacket."

"Where have you been?" I cut straight to the point, not feeling up to deal with his snarky remarks. And as I asked, I couldn't help but notice a faint purple hue painted around his eye socket. 

A bruise. It was faded, but definitely still there, and my heart lurched as I wondered how he'd gotten it. 

Though I already had some idea. 

"That's really none of your business, is it?" He huffed pretentiously, "I was busy."

"I'm making it my business." I looked back towards the lake, "You can't just disappear for a week and not give me any explanation."

"Why not?" He reached down, grabbing a pebble and chucking it out into the water. It skipped momentarily, and then sank like an anvil to the bottom of the lake. "What are you, my wife?"

"No," I muttered, "But I'm--"

"A person I snogged. When I was drunk. That's all. Don't get ahead of yourself, Mudblood."

"Well, why are you here then?" I rolled my eyes, "If you detest me so much, you should really stop showing up wherever I am."

"Easy. You're a source of entertainment. A distraction. A good or bad one? I haven't decided yet."

"Charming." I raised my brows, unimpressed. "You really do have a way with words, you know?"

He snickered lowly. 

"I try."

A pause. 

"What are you trying to distract yourself from exactly?"

"Bloody hell, you never relent, do you?"

"Nope." I shrugged, "And the more you refuse to tell me, the more I'm going to ask. It'd be better for you to just get it over with now."

"You're fucking insufferable."

"Am I?"

Suddenly, I stood. It was a bold move, especially for me, and I found myself surprised that I'd done it. And by the look on his face, so was Draco. 

He sized me up as I stepped towards him, our faces only a few feet apart as we matched glares. 

I could smell his cologne again. 

"Just say it." I prodded, "Come on. You'll feel so much better if you just get it off your chest."

"What is it that you think I'm hiding?" He hissed, taking his turn at being the one to advance. He stepped even closer, straightening his spine so that he towered over me. "Seems like you're the one who wants to say it."

"I--" I caught myself, not sure of how I wanted to respond. Should I just blurt it out? Should I accuse him of being a Death Eater? What if I was wrong, and he never forgave me for believing it? Or what if I was right, and I wasn't allowed to know?

What would he do then?

I didn't love the fact that we were standing right by the edge of a lake -- one he'd already threatened to drown me in once. And with the furious look that was now building in his eyes, I wasn't so sure that I wanted to test his limits. 

So I kept my mouth shut. 

"I told you before. You just seem like you're struggling. I'm trying to help you."

"And I told you that I didn't ask for your help." He whispered through a clenched, taut jaw, so close to me now that our noses nearly brushed against one another. "Why are you still trying?"

"Let me be clear," I hissed, "I'm never going to stop trying."

"Why--"

"Because I fucking care about you, you dumbass!--

He shot forward before I could process what was happening, his lips slamming against mine so aggressively that I almost fell backwards. And I would have if he hadn't caught me with his arm, wrapping tightly around my waist and yanking me against his chest with a grunt. 

Stunned, I didn't kiss him back at first. Not because I didn't want to, but because he caught me so off guard that I was in no way prepared. 

But then I canted my head to the side. I brought my hand up to the sharp curve of his jaw, feeling his glassy-smooth skin slide underneath my fingertips. I opened my mouth, letting him have full access. 

And I moaned. 

Softly, but just loud enough that he could hear it. I felt him shiver against me, his hands digging into the sweater over my torso and pulling me closer than I was before. 

"So is this what you're doing now?" I breathed between kisses, the taste of him -- sweet and spiked with mint -- driving me insane. "Making out with me to shut me up?"

"Precisely," His voice was like gravel. Rough. Unpolished. It was so different from how he usually spoke that my knees nearly buckled. "Seems after years of trying, I finally found your off switch."

"You didn't used to kiss like this," I let myself whisper, feeling him trail down to my chin and neck. It was like he knew every spot that would drive me insane -- pressing his mouth right against the places where my nerves would twinge excitedly. Biting lightly at my skin and sucking softly with his plush, wet lips, he unraveled me bit by bit, until I could barely remember how to say my own name. 

His tongue drew patterns on my throat, tracing my pulse through my neck and moving back up to my mouth. 

"What can I say?" He muttered, "I've gotten more practice."

I didn't respond. I couldn't. My brain wasn't functioning, except to register the scent of his cologne. The biting freshness of the mint flavor. The feeling of his hands, now digging into my hips and bringing our pelvises together. 

And that was when I noticed it. 

That unmistakeable hardness, pressing against my leg. My eyes shot open, and I shoved him away before I could stop myself. 

Because suddenly, it all came crashing back to me. 

The boy's weight pinned on top of mine, his hands clamped around my wrists and restricting my movement. The tears sliding down my face. The cloth gag shoved into my mouth. The way my heart had slammed like it was about to burst out of my chest. And that same hardness, pressing against my leg, unwelcomed and terror evoking. 

And all at once, I was right back in that moment, my face going pale and ghostly within a matter of seconds. My pulse was in my throat. My breathing was rough and ragged, and I felt as if I were drowning all over again. 

My lungs wouldn't fill. They felt empty. Empty forever. 

There was no air--no air--none--no air--

The world was growing black now. Fuzzy. 

I could still see Draco. At least for a moment. But he was sliding to the side. Or maybe I was. And now he was so blurry that I couldn't make out his face. 

But I knew it was him. Because he was always there. 

Always there when I needed him--

Crack. 

The last thing that registered was my head hitting the trunk of the tree, and then I was gone. 

Cold darkness swallowed me whole.


	35. Stitches

The first feeling my blurred mind latched onto was the pain. 

Hot, white pain, shooting up through the side of my skull. 

And for a while, that consumed my senses completely. I didn't pay attention to anything else. Didn't feel the soft sheets underneath me. Didn't feel the pillow cushioning my head. Didn't smell the faint scent of a candle burning nearby, mixed with the familiar cologne and peppermint. Didn't notice the way the mattress I was laying on sloped down near the edge, someone else's weight disrupting the flat surface. 

But when I did finally open my eyes, just the tiniest bit, I saw him. 

Though my gaze was foggy, I knew who I was looking at. Draco was sitting right on the edge of the bed, with his gaze glued to the ground, his hands wringing together in a nervous tick. And as soon as I shifted -- just slightly -- on the mattress, he noticed, looking up at me with empty eyes. 

"You're awake." He said flatly, his voice void of any sort of emotion. "Good. I was beginning to think I'd have to take you."

The light from the candle on the side table next to me was even too bright to handle, and I raised a groggy arm over the side of my head, trying to block my view. I still couldn't quite put together where I was, or what was happening. 

All I could remember was panic...more panic...not being able to breathe...panicking again...then I was falling sideways...Draco...he was there...falling...the tree...

I groaned, the thoughts somehow making my skull throb harder. 

"Take...take me where?" I managed to whisper. 

"The infirmary." He reached for the candle, blowing it out with a quick breath and killing the light. Instantly, I felt a bit of pressure relieve itself in my head. "I was hoping I wouldn't have to, though."

Slowly, my senses were starting to come back. I could see a little better, some of the blurriness clearing away. And as I glanced around to the best of my ability, still unable to lift my head from the pillow, I took in the room I'd been brought to. 

A green comforter was underneath me, and overhead, the bed had a dark, wooden canopy, blocking my view of the ceiling. The rest of the space was dark, and little light came in except for a small window. Though the view outside it looked more like water than the sky. That didn't make sense, though...it had to be the sky...

Or maybe not. Honestly, I had no idea. I was too busy thinking about the growing pain in the side of my head, which was now starting to become so unbearable that I wished I could just pass out again. 

I whimpered, lifting my hand weakly to the side of my skull and pressing my fingertips gingerly against the source of the pain. But as I did, more agony exploded through my nerves, and I drew back quickly, crying out. When my fingertips came back into view, they were smeared with blood. 

"You have a death wish," Draco muttered under his breath, "I swear."

"What--" I struggled to come up with words, "What happened?"

"I have no bloody idea." He huffed, "One minute, you're fine, and the next, you're shoving me away and passing out against a tree."

Shoving him away...passing out...

Snap. 

The memory came back in an instant, like a bolt of lightning, and it was just as painful. I groaned once more as I remembered it, watching the scene play out before me. 

I'd been thinking about the assault. That's what it was. And I'd panicked. Made myself hyperventilate. Fell sideways. Hit my head against the tree. Passed out. 

And now, I was on a bed. With Draco. In...a room. I wasn't exactly sure which. 

"Where are we?" My voice escaped my throat in a groggy, gravel like sound.

"Where are we?" He repeated my question like it should be obvious, "You don't remember having been here before?"

Another look around, and I could only shake my head. Maybe I would have recognized it if I didn't have a giant gash in the side of my skull, but that wasn't the case. 

"We're in my dorm." He said, and immediately, I felt more than stupid. How had I not recognized the bed? The walls. The rug. Everything I'd remembered so clearly in my dreams for the last two years. Somehow, I'd managed to forget it all. 

"Oh." I mumbled, realizing now why the window had looked like it was underwater. It was. That view out past it was the Black Lake. How had I forgotten that too? "Yes, I remember it now."

"Are you sure?" He quirked his brow, and though his expression was plastered with obvious annoyance, I thought I caught something else underneath. Maybe a hint of worry. Just the tiniest flicker, in the depth of his silver irises. "You hit your head pretty hard. You've been out for hours already. I have to say, it was a bloody hassle to get you back here unnoticed."

"Why..." My words were still slurred, and trickled slowly into my mind before I spoke them. One by one, like the dripping of a broken sink faucet. "Why did you bring me here, and not to Madame Pomfrey? I--I could have a concussion again, I--"

"You don't have a concussion." He cut me off, his knuckles cracking as he put pressure on them with his other palm, "I cast a diagnoses charm earlier. You're fine. Just the gash, and probably some headaches."

I paused. 

"You know how to cast a diagnoses charm?"

He only nodded. 

"Where did you learn that from?"

"My own research."

He was quiet for a moment before he spoke again. 

"I didn't bring you because I'm not trying to draw any sort of unneeded attention to myself. Madame Pomfrey was already questioning me when I broke my hands. If I'd shown up again, and you were unconscious--" He tightened his jaw, "It just -- wasn't something I was in the mood to deal with."

"Draco," I thinned my eyes, but opened them again when my vision grew too blurry. "I have an open, bleeding wound in the side of my head. Regardless of your selfish reasons to try and keep me hidden, I would really appreciate if you would take me to the infirmary."

"No need." He stood up abruptly, his weight shifting off of the mattress. "I can handle it myself."

I threaded my brows together with confusion before having to stop, white pain shooting across my forehead. I half groaned through my next few words. 

"What does that mean?"

"Luckily for you, I've had to deal with quite a few nasty gashes in my lifetime." He stepped towards his desk on the other side of the room, yanking open a drawer and rummaging around inside. After a few seconds, he pulled out a bottle of something clear and liquidy, shaking it. A cloth came with his other hand, and he tucked a spool of thread under his arm, a shiny needle appearing between his thumb and pointer finger. "You picked the perfect person to pass out in front of."

"No." I shook my head, quickly regretting it as another lightning bolt of pain shot through my nerves. "No way you're getting anywhere near me with that needle."

"Oh please," He rolled his eyes, gesturing the bottle towards me. "I've fixed worse wounds than yours. I've been told that I have exceptionally steady hands."

"I don't care who else you've maimed," I tried to back away towards the headboard, "You're not touching my face."

"What, are you afraid I'll damage something?" He cocked his head to the side, quirking an annoying brow, "I'm not sure I can make things look much worse than they already do."

God, I wanted to spit in his face. And if he'd been standing close enough, maybe I would have tried. 

"It'll be quick," He set his materials down on the mattress as he walked up next to me, "Just a few stitches, and then you won't be bleeding out anymore."

My stomach churning, I considered it. He seemed fairly confident in his ability to do it, but then again, I was pretty sure that Draco was confident about himself in any regard. He could have no idea what he was doing, and still give off the impression that he was some sort of expert. 

"Where did you learn this stuff from?" I questioned, "If you tell me, maybe I'll let you do it."

"My mother taught me," He stared blankly in response, "I've had to do it to myself more than a few times. I'd say by now, I have a good amount of experience."

His words caused me to stall. I've had to do it to myself more than a few times. What was that supposed to mean? Who was hurting him? Or was he hurting himself? I couldn't decide which reality would be worse, and suddenly my memory of his bruised eye socket came back. I let my eyes drift over to it, focusing on the faint purple hue. 

He noticed, turning away quickly with a huff and running his hand though his hair. 

"Are you going to make a decision, or just stare at me until I get uncomfortable enough to take you to Madame Pomfrey?"

"Fine." I pretended to forget about the bruise, "Just do it."

He nodded, and the thin, glinting metal appeared back between his fingertips. Taking the thread from under his arm, he pulled at it, slipping the end through the loop of the needle. 

"I'll clean it first." He narrated, and I gulped, my heart starting to slam. I wasn't particularly fond of needles. And especially not when they were near my face. 

He doused the cloth in the mystery liquid, and the smell of cleaning alcohol flooded my nose. A moment later, and the towel was about to press against the side of my head. 

"It's going to sting." He said dryly, "Don't scream too loud, Mudblood."

"I'll do my best." I hissed through gritted teeth, my hands gripping the comforter underneath me in anticipation. "You really could improve your bedside manner, you know -- fuck!"

The cloth pressing against my skin cut me off abruptly, and a strong, painful pricking sensation cut through my nerves. 

"I said it would sting."

"I fucking hate you--" I seethed, my eyes now squeezed tightly together, "You fucking -- bastard -- fuck--"

"So, you're even ruder when you're in pain." He laughed quietly to himself, "Noted. Though I suppose I already knew that from fourth year."

"I'm older now." I was sure I'd ripped a hole in his sheets from how tightly I was gripping them, "I know more curse words."

"So I've noticed."

He wiped the cloth lightly against my wound for what felt like hours, and the longer I waited for the pain to get more bearable, it only seemed to hurt worse. He hadn't even touched me with the needle yet, and I already wanted to pass out. 

Finally, the towel pulled away, and I gasped with relief. 

"Don't celebrate yet." Draco huffed, "That was the easy part."

"I want you to stun me." I groaned, "Seriously. I don't need to be awake while you stitch me back together."

"I'm not going to stun you. With my luck, someone would come in and think--" He stalled, seeming to choose his next few words carefully, "That I had other intentions."

My stomach dropped even further at the realization of what he meant. 

"No one would think that. And If they did, I'd clear it up before it became an issue."

"I'm not going to stun you." He repeated, "Just keep your eyes closed and try not to think about it."

"I may pass out again."

"That's fine." I could hear him taking in deep breaths. Preparing himself. I wondered if he was actually scared. "Actually, that might be best."

"When I'm better, I swear, I'm going to strangle you."

"Will you, Mudblood?" Draco's voice was sarcastic. Mocking. "I must say, I'm terrified."

"Just shut up and do it, will you?"

Draco didn't need another word of encouragement. Within a second, I felt his hands grip the side of my head, positioning me in a suitable angle. 

"Don't move." He mumbled, and I nodded without thinking. "I said don't fucking move."

"Sorry."

"Bloody impossible..." I heard Draco mutter under his breath as he rested the palm of his hand against my forehead. I knew the needle was close to me. It would only be a moment before--

Stab. A sharp, hot pain exploded through my nerves, and I cried out, my fingernails digging into the mattress. 

"Don't. Move." Draco hissed through what sounded like gritted teeth, his hands staying as steady as ever as they guided the needle through its first loop. I could feel it passing through my skin twice, and then pulling tight as Draco cinched it. 

"God -- it hurts." I whispered, and Draco just ignored me, continuing without hesitation. 

I felt it pass through again. Once. Twice. He cinched it tightly. 

"Just a few more."

"I might vomit."

"Don't you dare."

I was quiet for a while after that, keeping my attention focused on a happy memory. Really, anything but the moment I was currently in. 

The first thing that popped into my mind was a memory that I hadn't thought about in a long, long time. Maybe ever since it had happened. 

I was standing in the potions classroom, during fourth year. A body had appeared at my side, pressing lightly against my arm.

"Hello lovely," Draco muttered, making sure that everyone else had left the room before leaning down and planting a quick kiss on my cheek. I laughed, shoving him off and stepping in front of him, peering up with wide, excited eyes.

"Lovely?" I questioned, "So you have a nickname for me now?"

"Don't get used to it," He shook his head, "I'm not usually one for pet names."

"Oh really?" I tilted my head playfully, "So I can't call you...let's see...blondie?"

"No," He smirked, "You can't."

"I think I will."

"Absolutely not."

"How are you going to stop me?" I stood up on my tippy toes, my lips ghosting against his. "You can't shut me up."

"I know I can't." He smirked, "That's why I like you." He kissed me softly, backing me into one of the desks with a hand on my waist, "I do wish you would shut up sometimes, though."

"Oh really?" I thinned my eyes, "Like when?"

"Like when you talk back." He bit lightly at my lip, "I told you years ago that you needed to learn to respect your superiors."

"Oh I remember," I ran my hands down his chest, feeling his heartbeat underneath his robes. "I just don't consider you my superior, is all."

"Hmm." He grunted, "We'll have to change that."

He backed up from my lips, looking down at me with playful, challenging eyes. I thinned mine in response.

"Give me your best shot, Malfoy."

He just snickered, shooting forward and catching me in another kiss, his hands moving into my hair and massaging softly at my scalp. I hummed from deep in my throat, and the kiss deepened, both of us sucking in deep breaths through our noses as his hands moved down my chest and to my waist.

In one swift motion, he slid his hands back to my ass and hosted me into the air, sliding me on top of the desk and resting his palms on my thighs. He squeezed tightly, and I made a surprised yelping sound, though I was quickly quieted as his tongue slid back into my mouth, cutting off any noise from my throat and drowning me in his lips.

"You drive me crazy, Woodwick," He muttered between kisses, "I've never met anyone that makes me feel the way you do."

"That's nice," I kissed down along his neck, making him grip tighter into my thighs, "I wish I could say the same. I've met plenty of boys like you."

Draco scoffed, and I laughed into his shoulder, savoring the feeling of my face pressed up against his chest.

"You're something else, you know?" He huffed, and I nodded.

"I know."

A moment of silence consumed us, and Draco glanced up at the clock on the wall, cursing something underneath his breath and looking back to me with a sigh.

"Hell, I have to get to quidditch practice." He shook his head, "But we're not finished here."

"Oh, we're not?"

"No," He wet his lips, his eyes flickering to my mouth and back up to my irises. "Meet me tonight."

"If I'm free." I shrugged, "Then maybe."

"Come on," He shifted closer, leaning forward and kissing softly at my chin and neck. I shivered, caving immediately.

"Alright, fine." I shoved him back, "When and where?"

"The astronomy tower. Dusk." He stepped away, crossing his arms and puffing his chest. "Trust me, you don't want to miss it."

"You're setting some pretty high expectations for yourself." I slid off of the table, grabbing my books off the ground and stuffing them back into my bag. "You're sure you can live up to them?"

"Oh, I'm more than sure." He nodded, "When have I ever let you down?" I shot him an "are you serious" type look.

"A lot of times, actually."

"Oh, right."

"You're a bloody idiot, Malfoy." I laughed, and he moved back towards me, grabbing my chin between his thumb and pointer finger and tilting my face up towards his.

"An idiot you can't stay away from." He muttered, and I glared, pursing my lips.

"Unfortunately."

He kissed me quickly once more before whipping away.

"Done." Draco's voice -- from the present -- snapped me out of my daydream, and I opened my eyes quickly, clearing my throat and sitting up. He'd drawn back, standing a few feet away from the side of the bed and eyeing me as I touched at the wound. 

It was now closed completely in a tightly stitched together line, and though it was still tender as my fingertips pressed gingerly against it, it definitely felt better now that it wasn't oozing blood. I hated to admit it, but he really was good at it. I also hated to think about why he'd gotten so much practice...

"It -- it actually feels a lot better." I mumbled, hesitant to give him the ego boost. He just smirked. 

"You see?" He quirked his brow, "You never should've doubted my abilities. I'm pretty much in charge of keeping you alive now, it seems."

"You're not." I corrected him.

"Aren't I?" He walked back to his desk, tucking the needle and thread away. He kept the cleaning alcohol and cloth laying on the bed. A sinking feeling in my stomach told me he wasn't done with it. "What is it, four times that I've saved you now? What do you have planned next? Jumping off the astronomy tower?"

"I haven't planned any of it." I snapped, "I just -- have particularly bad luck."

"Horrible luck." He called over his shoulder, "Maybe the worst I've seen."

"Well, not everyone is as fortunate as you are, Malfoy."

It was meant as a joke. It was. 

But as soon as the word "fortunate" left my lips, I watched him prickle. Even without seeing his face, I could tell. The muscles in his shoulders seized up, becoming tense with aggravation, and he gripped onto the back of his desk chair, the skin over his knuckles going white. 

I sucked in a quick breath -- instantly regretting what I'd said. 

God, what was wrong with me?

He had a bruise on his eye, obviously inflicted by someone. I had a pretty good guess of who. And if my suspicions were correct -- if he really was a Death Eater now -- then he certainly wasn't fortunate. Whether he'd wanted the mark or not, in no world was that a privilege. It was nowhere even close. 

"Draco--" I heard myself whisper, and he pricked again, the sound of my voice only seeming to make it worse. 

Awful silence hung over the room for far too long before he spoke again. 

"I have somewhere to be." He suddenly snapped, his hands leaving the chair as he moved for the door. "I'll be back...when I'm back."

"Draco--" I tried again, but he ignored me, yanking the door open with a frustrated motion. 

"Do not leave this room until I return." He turned over his shoulder, but refused to meet my eyes. A part of my heart wilted like a flower in the frost. "If you do, I'll know. I've asked nicely once. I don't want to have to use a harsher tone."

He slipped out of the room before I could utter another word, and the door slammed shut behind him. 

The last sign of him I observed was the sound of his voice as he muttered a low spell onto the lock. 

"Colloportus."


	36. A Crack in His Mask

TW // mention of attempted suicide. Please don't read if that triggers you in any way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the time I heard the sound of his footsteps re-approaching the door, I'd already completed three full scans of his bedroom. I knew that I shouldn't have done it. But then again, he hadn't said not to snoop around. He'd only told me not to leave. 

The drawers in his desk were organized perfectly, of course. There wasn't a single quill out of place, tucked neatly beside rolls of parchment and pots of dark black ink. I found photographs, stacked in the bottom compartment of the desk, though most of them were of scenery, not people. 

I wondered as I flipped through them if Draco had a passion for photography. Of course, I couldn't ask him about it. He might know I'd been looking at things I shouldn't have. 

A few hours had passed since he'd stormed out, and in that time, the pain had lessened a bit. I was now able to keep my eyes open without squinting in discomfort, and the ache in the side of my skull had subsided just enough to where it was bearable. 

When I'd finally summoned enough strength to stand, I found my wand laying on his bedside table, along with a glass of water and a small vial of potion. 

What kind of potion? -- I wasn't sure. But it swished around as I shook the bottle, seeming to sparkle with tiny flecks of gold. 

I assumed that he'd left it for me to take, but downing a mystery potion given to me by Draco Malfoy didn't seem like the smartest decision to make. So I left it, the shiny liquid remaining under the cork-top of the bottle. 

I did drink the water, though. In my few hours of unconsciousness, I'd grown incredibly thirsty. 

The door creaked back open a little while after I'd laid back down on his bed, trying to seem like I'd never left it. I squinted my eyes, appearing lethargic and woozy, though my mind was pretty much back to the way it usually functioned. 

Draco stepped into the room moments later, though just like when he'd left hours before, he refused to meet my eye line. Instead, he cleared his throat, shuffling towards the bed but stopping a long ways away, half way between the door and me. 

"I see you didn't take advantage of the pain relief potion I left you." He said dryly, and I glanced over at the shimmering liquid, cursing myself for assuming the worst. "I assumed you wouldn't. Can't trust me not to try and poison you, I suppose."

"Can you blame me for being suspicious?" I cocked my brow, "Or did you somehow forget about the time when you and Pansy slipped Veritaserum into my drink?"

"That--" Draco tensed his jaw, "I've already admitted to regretting that."

"Yes, the apology was very heartfelt." I sneered. 

Draco stalled for a moment, going quiet and rubbing at the back of his neck. I glanced at his left wrist as he raised it, seeing if maybe his sleeve would ride up just enough and reveal the skin underneath. But to my disappointment, it stayed in place, keeping its secrets hidden from sight. 

I stared a little too intensely, though, because when Draco finally did look in my direction, his face immediately twisted with an aggravated expression. 

"Did hitting the tree trunk fuck with your eyes, or are you just unable to keep yourself from gawking at me?"

"You're just standing right in my line of sight." I spat back, "Maybe if you weren't so bloody tall then I'd be able to see over you."

"Seems your attitude has definitely recovered." Draco stepped closer to his beside table, his jaw taught. "I was hoping you'd damaged that part of your brain beyond repair."

I huffed. 

"No. Sorry to disappoint."

Draco was silent for another moment, grabbing the potion and empty water glass I'd left behind in his slender fingertips. His upper lip turned up into a faint snarl before he spoke again. 

"Next time, I suppose I won't go about trying to waste my resources on you."

The sentence stung as I registered it in my mind, and I thinned my eyes into slits as he walked away, tucking the glass and bottle back into his desk. 

We didn't speak for a while after that. Draco pulled out his chair, sitting down with his back to me and beginning to scribble furiously at a piece of parchment, while I just laid back on the mattress, trying to close my eyes and not think about his presence. 

Though, that began to prove difficult, when I realized that he liked to mumble under his breath while he was writing. 

"Am I allowed to leave now?" I eventually groaned, "Or do you just plan on keeping me trapped here until the gash heals completely?"

"That's ridiculous." Draco mumbled over his shoulder, "You think I can handle you being here for longer than a few hours?"

My stomach dropped, but I tried not to let it show on my face. 

"So, I can go, then?"

"No."

"What? Why not?"

"It's eleven o'clock at night." He said dryly, "I'm not in the mood to get in trouble for sneaking a girl out after hours again."

Again. 

I couldn't help but pluck out the word, running it through my mind over and over again until my heart was slamming. I hoped that my face hadn't turned as pale as it felt like it had, but thankfully, Draco didn't turn around to look. 

Again. Again. Again. 

I couldn't help but wonder who he'd been with while we were apart. Not that it mattered. Though, I kind of felt like it did. 

He hadn't done anything wrong, of course. He wasn't my boyfriend. In fact, I didn't know if he'd ever been my boyfriend. We'd never really said what we were back then, and now, it was just the same. Only this time, it was even less defined.

I scanned a list of girls through my mind. Everyone who I'd ever assumed he would be interested in. 

I gritted my teeth, realizing when I really thought about it that it was a longer list than I'd anticipated. 

In fact, I couldn't seem to think of anyone he wouldn't hook up with. Except for maybe Hermione. He seemed to hold a specific grudge against her. Or maybe he was just overcompensating for some sort of secret crush. Honestly, I wouldn't put it past him. 

My voice squeaked out of my throat before I could stop it. 

"...Again?"

I watched Draco's shoulder's tense, and he paused the frantic scribbling of his quill to draw in a slow, deep breath. 

"Yes. What's your question?"

"I--" I hesitated, not knowing how to answer him. I didn't have a specific question, really. Or at least, I didn't have one that didn't make me sound overly possessive of someone that wasn't mine.

Exactly how many girls have you slept with since we ended things and what were their names -- sounded too aggressive. Plus, I was almost sure that he would never willingly give me that information. So I went with a much more tame approach. 

"It just sounded like there was a story behind that."

"No," Draco was quick to respond, and I flinched at the harshness of his tone, "There's no story. What you're assuming is exactly what I meant."

Pang. My stomach dropped again simultaneously with the lurching of my heart. 

"Oh." Was all I managed as I pulled my knees up to my chest, turning on my side and staring at the wall. I'm not sure how much time passed after that before he spoke again, his chair screeching against the floor as he pushed it back and stood up. 

"I need to disinfect your stitches again." He mumbled, reaching back into his desk drawer and pulling out the same cloth and bottle of cleaning alcohol as before. I winced at the sight of it. "Handling an infection would be more trouble than I care to deal with."

"You could just let me go to the infirmary, you know?" I scooted away as he brought the cloth closer to me, his tall figure now looming over the side of the bed. "They don't have to know that you were with me when it happened."

"They'll know that someone was," He gestured to the side of my head, "You've got fresh stitches that Madame Pomfrey obviously didn't give you. Their first question will be who did."

"I'll just tell them it was Hermione," I offered, "I know she knows how to do it, and if I explain what happened to her--"

"No." Draco was quick to cut me off, dousing the cloth generously. "I don't want you getting Grander involved, or anyone else for that matter."

I hissed with pain as he pressed the towel to the side of my head, cleaning any residual blood away and wiping carefully along the fresh stitches. 

"What -- ow -- what is the big deal? Why can't anyone know that you helped me?"

"I told you before," Draco mumbled under his breath, "Madame Pomfrey is already suspicious of me. I don't want her asking questions if I bring you back a third time."

"What's the worst she could be assuming -- that we're together?" I glanced up at him, "I mean, is that really so bad if she thinks--"

"Yes, it's bad." Draco interrupted again, and I rolled my eyes. "Because we're not, and I don't need people questioning me about my relationship with a Mudblood."

At his words, I felt my breath catch in my throat. Not because I was offended, but because I was so shocked that he was still hiding behind that pathetic, cop-out of a lie. Clearly, if the status of my blood had mattered to him that much, I wouldn't be laying on his bed, with his hand gingerly wiping away the blood on my wound. 

"Are you still on about that?" I pushed the cloth away, scoffing. "Honestly, Draco, come up with something else. The Mudblood thing is getting old."

"What would you prefer I say, then?" He thinned his eyes, "That you're a bloody embarrassment to be seen with? That I don't want to be associated with you in any way? That if the rumor of us being together got around, I would loose everything -- all of my--" He stalled, his jaw twitching angrily as he tried to come up with the word. 

I wondered if he was about to say "friends."

But instead of finishing the sentence, he just turned away with an aggravated huff, throwing the cloth down on the floor and running his hands through his hair. The silvery strands fell around his fingertips and shining metal rings as he moved to hold the back of his neck with a long sigh.

I was the first to break the silence, my patience worn. 

"Is this about Snape?" I blurted, and Draco's shoulder's visibly tensed. "Did he tell you that you weren't allowed to be around me or something?"

"That's ridiculous," He whirled around, his expression sneering, "No, he didn't."

"Why does he follow you around like a shadow, then?" I pressed on, "He shows up everywhere. At Slughorn's Christmas party...after the assault...at the astronomy tower...why?"

"It's none of your fucking business why." Draco spat, his fists balled tightly.

"I think it is," I swung my legs over the side of the bed, pausing as I considered my next question. "...Draco, did he give you that bruise?"

Instantly, I watched Draco's expression shift into a kind of rage I'd never seen before. His lip snarled. His brows furrowed. His eyes were so thin that I wondered if he could still see me. 

"Excuse me?"

"That bruise." I gestured towards him, softening my voice as I watched his expression seem to crumble a bit. Though he tried to cover it as quickly as I had appeared. "I--I just couldn't help but wonder..."

"Snape didn't fucking touch me," Draco seethed, stepping closer with a long stride and making me flinch, "How dare you assume--"

"Who hit you then, Draco?" I stared up at him, and he froze, his mouth hanging open wordlessly as his eyes burned with rage. 

It seemed as though he couldn't decide how he wanted to react to what I'd said. I could see that anger burning behind his pupils, though really, it was always there -- just more enflamed now. I could see the twitching of his lip, and the way his skin went white as he felt any sort of negative emotion. I could imagine that he'd fail in any situation where he'd need to have a convincing poker face. He wore his emotions blatantly obviously. At least the more explosive ones. 

It was the more meaningful emotions that I had trouble observing. 

"Who hit you, Draco?" I repeated, softer this time, and I refused to look away, though it was clear that he was trying to get me to. His gaze was so intense that it was like he was attempting to kill me with his eyes, but I ignored his efforts, staying completely still as I stared up at him. 

For a while, he didn't do anything. Just glared. Breathed in huffed, angry breaths that almost sounded painful to inhale. Clenched his fists so tightly by his sides that his skin went completely white over his bones. 

The room was dead silent. I wasn't sure if the slamming heartbeat I was hearing was mine or his. 

"Draco?" I tried one more time, gathering every bit of confidence in me and raising my hand from my lap. His eyes followed it like a laser, and his breathing suddenly stopped all together as I reached forward, resting it on his forearm. 

His left forearm. 

He might not have known that I was being intentional with the placement of my grip. But I was. 

I was shocked in the first few moments that he didn't pull away, but the fear coursing through my veins didn't subside just yet. He still hadn't spoken a single word, and I had little to no idea what he was thinking. 

"I'm not going to judge you, you know?" I whispered, tightening my grip on his arm. "I won't think any less of you if you tell me what happened. I just want to make sure you're alright." I paused, watching his eyes glisten with rage, "Draco, that's all I've ever wanted. For you to be alright."

A pause. Then I tried one last time, the intensity of his gaze making my nerves prickle with nervousness. 

"Are you alright, Draco?"

That was it. 

Instantly, I saw it.

A crack in his mask. 

Like a bolt of lightning shooting through the sky, it fractured through his facial expression, the anger breaking away and crumbling in an instant. 

His eyes pinched, the rage in his irises being replaced by something I'd never seen in them before. Instantly, it terrified me. His mouth fell open, and as it did, a single, body-racking sob tore through him. 

My eyes went wide with shock as he fell forward, collapsing against me and wrapping his arms desperately around my waist. I was pinned down by his weight on the mattress, his face burying in the crook of my neck as another series of sobs racked through him. 

He was gasping, fighting for breath as the cries took over every inch of his body. Shivering and dripping hot tears onto my neck, he clung to my figure, seeming to try and pull me as close as physically possible. 

I was stunned for the first few moments, my muscles tight as he clambered on top of me. But as soon as the shock wore off, I snapped back into reality, instinctively wrapping my arms around his shoulders and digging my hands into his scalp.

I stroked through his hair softly, shushing him as he continued to sob, my heart slamming so quickly that I thought I might black out. But I couldn't. I wouldn't. He needed me, and he was finally -- finally -- letting me in. I was not going to let myself ruin this. If I did, he might never forgive me. And I might never forgive myself. 

"It's okay," I whispered, rubbing along the back of his neck and shoulders. "It's okay, I've got you. I'm not letting you go."

I felt him shiver again, and another strong progression of sobs cracked through his ribcage, so intense that his whole body tensed with every gasp. I wondered if he'd ever let himself cry like this before. Really cry. 

I'd seen him cry before -- after Slughorn's Christmas party. But not like this. Never like this. 

Not when he allowed me to see it. 

For some reason, it was so much more painful to watch it now. 

"Just breathe." I mumbled next to his ear, kissing lightly at the side of his head. His soft hair tickled my cheek. "Breathe."

I could tell that he was trying, attempting to slow his gasps with slow, deep inhales. But every time he tried, a sob would interrupt him, ruining his progress and making him grip me tighter. He treated me like an anchor -- like he was stranded out in the middle of a deep, cold ocean, and I was the warmth. The security. The thing he was sure would never run away. 

I would never leave. 

He knew that just as well as I did. 

Usually, I would have hated for him to be so confident in his hold over me. But now, when I was all he seemed to have to grip onto, I was glad to be there. I could only imagine how much pain he'd kept pent up inside himself, refusing to let it release. 

"I was -- I was going to jump," He suddenly gasped, clinging to my sweater and dragging his face up until it rested against my chest. "That n--night that I found you at the Astronomy t--tower. I was going to -- jump."

Instantly, my blood went ice cold in my veins. My heart felt as though it had stopped beating. And all at once, I couldn't breathe. 

It took me a moment to put a single word together in my mind. 

"What?" I heard myself whisper. 

"I would have fucking died that night." He whimpered, his breath shuddered and weak. "If you hadn't been there -- I -- I would have done it."

The world seemed to freeze for a while around me. It was like the air had evaporated, sucking out of my lungs like a vacuum and leaving me completely breathless. 

He would have died. 

The thought hit me like a punch to the gut, and I felt the color drain from my face, leaving me pale and ghostly. 

He would have killed himself. 

Draco. 

My Draco. 

The boy I'd known since we were eleven. The boy who's smile had faded so much since the last time I'd seen it that it was now non-existent. 

God, how had I not seen it before?

Why had I not tried harder to help?

I was gasping with him now, and his weight on top of me felt suffocating. But I only pulled him closer. The thought of letting him go terrified me a thousand times more than the thought of hyperventilating did. 

"I --" I struggled to fight back the tears prickling at the corners of my eyes. I wouldn't cry. Not in front of him at least. I didn't want him to think I couldn't handle the information. I had to be strong. Strong -- for him. "I had no idea."

To my surprise, Draco huffed a weak laugh. 

"Yes, that was the plan."

"Draco--" I shook my head vehemently, wrapping my arms so tightly around his shoulders that I couldn't have possibly held him any closer. "I--" I didn't know what to say, "I don't understand."

"What's there to not understand?" He muttered, his gasps slowing just enough that he was able to talk a little more normally. "I wanted to fucking die."

That was it. I couldn't hold it back any longer. The first tear dripped onto my cheek as I stared blankly up at the canopy of his bed. 

His bed. 

A bed he never would have slept in again. Sheets he never would've touched for another night. A pillow that would never support his head any longer. A whole room that could have been empty of him. Forever. 

A sob escaped past my lips, and instantly, I felt his grip tighten around me. 

"Don't." He said weakly, "Please -- don't."

"I can't--" I gasped, digging my fingertips into the fabric of his sweater. I savored the feeling of his weight on top of me. His heartbeat pressed against mine. His tears sliding down my neck. His breath on my skin. The feeling of his arms wrapped around me. 

What if he'd really jumped that night?

I never would have gotten the chance to tell him how I felt. I never would have gotten to tell him that I--

"Draco, I lo--"

"Stop." He cut me off instantly, his skin going cold as ice. "You fucking don't, and I don't want to hear you say it just because you think I'm going to off myself."

I pressed my lips together in a tight, straight line, holding back the remaining sobs threatening to spill from my throat. It took more energy than I had available to spend, but I swallowed them back, waiting until the urge to cry had dissipated and I was able to speak clearly again. 

I drew in a slow breath, closing my eyes and focusing on the feeling of his arms around me. When I was ready, I spoke. 

"I'm sorry." I whispered.

Draco didn't respond, but he also didn't pull away, so I considered the matter put away. A few moments later, I continued. 

"Why did you want to do it?"

He hesitated before answering, drawing in a shaky breath and exhaling against my shoulder. His tears had stopped, but they were still drying on his face, his lips red and swollen. 

"There wasn't just one reason." He breathed, "I suppose I've had the idea for months now. I just needed a good time to do it, and somewhere where no one would find me in time to change my mind--" He stopped, swallowing quickly and hiding his face back in the crook of my neck. His breath hitched.

"It's alright," I whispered quickly, trailing my hand along the back of his head and playing with the ends of his hair, "You can cry."

"I don't want to fucking cry," He snapped, letting out a sob a second later, "I'm so bloody sick of crying."

I shushed him, stroking along his shoulders. 

"Just let it all out," I kissed the space between his neck and his collarbone. "I promise, you'll feel so much better if you do."

"Fucking hell," His voice crackled, and he curled back around me, clinging to my body for support. "I got to the top of the stairs, and I saw you standing there, and I was so fucking furious that you'd ruined everything. You'd ruined my plan. I had it all down perfectly. No one was going to know until they'd found my fucking corpse in the courtyard, splattered into a million bloody pieces--" 

Another strong sob, from both of us. The shivers passed between our limbs, melting into one continuous rhythm. 

"And when you turned around and looked at me, I felt like my fucking heart was falling out of my chest, because you looked at me like -- like I was something worth looking at. And I couldn't fucking stand it because -- because I'm not. I'm not worth anything."

"Draco..."

"I'm not," He shivered, "You have no fucking idea what you're getting yourself into with me. I've done things that would shock you."

"Then tell me." I breathed, "Help me to understand."

"No," His head shook weakly against my chest, more tears meeting the neckline of my sweater. "No, no, no, no..."

"Okay." I shushed him again, stroking his silky soft hair, "Okay. You don't have to. Just breathe."

And he did just that. He tried to breathe. For me. It took what felt like hours before his inhales went back to normal, and he stopped shivering, his muscles going limp with exhaustion. 

"You're the only fucking thing I have left," He mumbled, "I would have done it the next night if you hadn't kissed me."

I didn't know how to handle what he was saying, because part of my heart felt like it had died, wilting far beyond repair. Every time I touched him now, I could only think about the fact that he could have been gone, and I wouldn't have known until it was too late. 

What if I'd left him there that night, all alone?

He would have done it. 

He would have done it. And he would've been dead before I could've stopped him. 

I felt like passing out again. But I fought the feeling away, gripping him tightly and refusing to let him go. And as I clutched him against my chest, I knew exactly what I wanted to say.

"Draco, if you jump, I jump."

Without a seconds hesitation, he shot up, staring down at me with wild, reddened eyes.

"What?"

"You heard me. You jump, I jump."

"Are you fucking insane?" He hissed, hovering over my chest on his forearms.

"Maybe." I nodded, "But I am not going to go on living a life without you in it. That's non negotiable."

"No. No bloody way I'm letting you kill yourself over me."

"You don't have to." I refused to relent, "Just don't jump, and I never will either."

Draco's lip twitched. I could tell he was furious at my words. But instead of fighting me, he just collapsed back against my chest, sighing exhaustedly and closing his eyes. I drew my fingertips over his forehead and down the tip of his nose as he breathed slowly. I was glad that he finally could. 

I knew how it felt to not be able to take a deep breath. It was something I wouldn't even wish on Pansy. 

"Fine." He finally spoke, and I quirked my brow. 

"Fine, what?"

"Fine, I won't jump. Then you'll never have to either, since you seem so attached to this idiotic deal."

A relieved smile creeped across my lips. 

"You promise?"

"Yeah, I promise."

A long time passed without speaking after that. But I didn't mind. I don't think Draco did, either. 

I was just happy that he was there. Really there, laying against my chest and breathing deeply, his sobs quickly becoming a memory, and nothing else. 

His hands never stopped gripping tightly into my sweater, and I buried my face in his shoulder, breathing in his sweet scent like it would cure the now seeming permanent aching in my chest. It smelled exactly like what my Amortentia had, not that I was surprised in the slightest.

I only noticed after a few minutes that Draco was asleep, his head lulling to the side on chest and a faint snore escaping past his lips. I just smiled as it did, brushing strands of his hair away from his face and sliding them behind his ears. 

He was so beautiful when he slept. So peaceful looking. 

He wasn't the same person as when he was awake.

I wondered how long it had been since he'd slept. Really slept. The kind of sleep you have as a little kid, when there's nothing to keep you awake late at night. Nothing to worry about. Nothing to make you cry. Nothing to make you hurt. 

Another snore, and Draco shifted on top of me, nestling his face into the space between my breasts. I smirked, laughing softly. Of course he found the spot, even when he wasn't conscious. 

And as he drifted into a deep, relaxed sleep, his sobs leaving him more exhausted than I'd ever seen him, I only continued to stroke the back of his head, running my fingertips along his scalp and tracing patterns on the back of his neck. 

Even if he couldn't feel it, it made me feel better about the whole situation. Everything he'd just told me. Because if I was holding him, I knew he was okay. I knew he was alive. 

Alive, and mine. 

Mine. 

He was mine. 

I knew that now, too. 

All that was left to do was to make him admit it.


	37. Meddling in Things You Don't Understand

My arms were still wrapped tightly around his shoulders as my eyes fluttered open, cloudy with sleep and still puffy from the tears. 

I'd cried for a while after he'd drifted off the night before, and clearing my mind enough to fall asleep had been nearly impossible.

I just couldn't stop thinking about what he'd told me. And the mental picture of his corpse laying dead in the courtyard kept forcing itself to the front of my mind, making me shiver and break into sobs every time. 

"Don't leave me," I'd whispered continuously through the night, digging my fingertips into the fabric of his suit and clutching him against my chest. "Please, don't leave me."

I'd fallen asleep eventually, though that didn't provide me much relief, my dreams filled with the image of his dead, lifeless eyes, staring blankly up at me as I sobbed on top of him. 

Waking up had been a welcomed escape, though I'd been covered in a cold sweat, my palms clammy and numb. Burying my face in the crook of Draco's neck was the only thing that calmed me down, and I breathed deeply as my racing pulse returned to normal. 

He was okay. He was alive. He was with me. 

And I was not about to let him go. 

My eyes had closed again by the time he finally stirred from his sleep, and I snapped them open, my arms instantly tightening around him. 

"Relax, Mudblood," I heard him mumble against my chest, "I'm not going to apparate out of your arms. You don't have to squeeze me that tightly."

"Sorry," I whispered, letting go the tiniest bit. Draco snickered. 

Shifting on top of me, he buried his face in the space between my neck and shoulder, suddenly beginning to plant soft, tired kisses on the exposed skin. I shivered, goosebumps scattering across my body as he continued, his tongue drawing tiny patterns along my veins. 

"What are you doing?" I breathed, and I felt him smile. 

"I haven't woken up in the same bed as you in a while."

"Oh," I could feel heat spreading across my face, "Yeah, that's right."

"It's not so bad." His teeth nipped at my earlobe, and I choked back a whimper.

"No," I was sure that he could hear how loudly my heart was slamming, "Not at all."

Draco's arms slowly unhooked from around my torso, coming up to slide along my arms. Then up to my neck. Then cupping the sides of my face as he lifted his chest away from mine. 

He stared down at me with an unrelenting gaze, his irises gleaming even in the darkness of the room. 

"The gash looks a bit better." He muttered, drawing a single finger over the line of stitches. I winced, but didn't pull away, the pain only lasting a second.

"It doesn't hurt so much anymore," I focused on how warm his body was. How alive he felt on top of me. "I -- I wanted to thank you."

Draco just stared down at me, so I continued.

"You didn't have to help me."

"I wasn't just going to let you bleed out."

"I know," I nodded, "But you didn't have to do all you did. So, thank you."

He waited a moment, then nodded, sliding back down onto my chest and sighing. 

"Of course, Mudblood."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"It was my father." Draco spoke up suddenly, and I turned around to look back at him, my hand flipping through a stack of photos on his desk. 

"What?"

"The bruise." He gestured at his own face, shaking his head, "My father gave it to me."

I didn't respond -- just stared blankly -- and Draco shifted on his feet, tucking his hands into his pockets. 

"You asked."

"Yes, yes, sorry--" I snapped out of my shocked trance, walking back towards him and sliding my hands up his arms. I could feel his muscles underneath the fabric of his suit, and my nerves prickled, the idea of him without the clothes on making my pulse quicken. "Sorry, I just -- wasn't prepared to hear it."

We were both quiet for a moment before I rested my face against his chest, sliding my hands around his waist and pulling him close to me. 

"I'm so sorry, Draco."

"I'm not looking for your pity," He pricked, his muscles tensing against my fingertips, "I was just answering your question."

"I know," I nodded, "I know. Will you just -- let me hold you, please?"

A pause. Then he sighed. 

"Fine."

His muscles didn't relax much. But I didn't care. I only squeezed him tighter, inhaling deeply and savoring the feeling of him. Everything I could soak in. I couldn't get enough of it, now that I had the lingering fear in the back of my mind that each time would be the last. 

"Draco?" I whispered after a moment, and he grunted in response. "I need you to swear that you'll never do anything to hurt yourself. Ever."

He scoffed, but I didn't relent. 

"I'm serious. Either you swear it, or I'll -- I'll make sure you won't be able to."

He snickered lowly, his voice vibrating down through his chest. 

"And how do you plan to do that, exactly?"

My response was quick. 

"I'll go to Snape."

Instantly, Draco shoved me away. He was hissing when he spoke next. 

"You'll what?"

"I'll tell him everything you told me last night." I gulped, "Every word. If that's what it takes to keep you safe."

"You're a bloody idiot if you think going to Snape will make things any better," He pointed an accusatory finger in my direction, "If anything, he'll just make me want to die more."

I flinched. 

"Please don't say that."

"You want me to lie to you, then?" He looked furious, and with every word, he only seemed to get himself more and more worked up. "Fine. I'm bloody ecstatic to wake up every day. I'm so happy to go home and get beaten with the fucking end of my father's cane. And I so look forward to coming back to Hogwarts and having no one around that understands--"

He stopped, his breath hitching. In an instant, his expression contorted into a nasty snarl. I watched his eyes turn cold. 

"I'm not doing this again."

"Draco--"

"Get out."

My hand froze in the middle of reaching towards him. 

"Draco, I didn't mean to--"

"Are you fucking deaf?" He snapped, taking one long step towards me and making me flinch backwards. "Get out."

My heart lurched in my chest, and I gulped down the knot that had formed in the back of my throat. 

"If I leave now, people might see me."

"I don't care." He turned away, his shoulder tight and tense. "I don't want to look at you anymore."

Pang. 

I sucked in a quick breath, biting down on my bottom lip and turning away from him. 

Just go -- I told myself -- He's hurting. Just leave him be for now. 

"Fine." I shoved my hands into my pockets, nodding. "I'll go."

Draco didn't respond. Didn't even look up from the ground as I turned to leave, my hand wrapping around the door handle and twisting it until the barrier was cracked open just a hair. 

"I'm sorry." I said over my shoulder, hoping that he would hear my words, "I shouldn't have said it. I promise I won't go to Snape."

I didn't look back to see if he reacted, just slipped out into the hallway and prayed that no one would spot me as I bolted out of the Slytherin common room, the echoing of my footsteps the only trail I left behind. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Why are you doing this? -- I asked myself. 

This is stupid. 

This is by far the stupidest idea you've ever come up with. 

He won't tell you anything. 

You'll just get yourself in trouble. 

He already knows about you and Draco. 

Don't do this. 

Don't do this. 

Too late. 

The door to Snape's office loomed high over my head, dark and intimidating, and I gulped, trying to calm the shaking of my hands. The dungeons were no less frigid than usual, and as I raised my arm to knock on the wooden barrier, I watched goosebumps spring up along my exposed skin. 

I'd promised Draco that I wouldn't go to Snape about him. And that was a promise I intended to keep. I was here for something else. And though it did have to do with Draco, I was hoping that I wouldn't have to mention his name. If everything went to plan, Snape wouldn't know that my questions had anything to do with Draco at all. 

My hands were quivering. Three raps. Then a pause. 

I could feel my heart beating -- quicker and quicker. The sound of something behind the door. The movement of a shadow along the floor. 

And a moment later, the door was swinging open abruptly, Snape's dark eyes meeting mine like a magnet. 

I'd had something prepared to say. But in an instant, the words left my mind in a vanishing vision, and I just stared blankly up at him, my mouth hanging open with no sound. 

Snape paused, his intense gaze scanning me up and down before he sighed, crossing his arms over his black-robed chest. 

"Miss Woodwick," He tilted his nose up at me. "To what do I owe this...pleasure." Wow. I'd never heard someone say something so unenthusiastically. I cleared my throat, my face going red as I shifted my weight awkwardly from foot to foot. 

"I'm sorry to be bothering you, Professor." I made sure to keep my gaze on the floor. I wasn't sure if I'd be able to speak confidently, staring into those black eyes of his. "But I was -- well, I had a question for you."

Snape cocked a brow. 

"Which is?"

I hesitated. I knew the words I wanted to speak like I knew the back of my hand. I'd been planning them out ever since I'd come up with the idea to ask him. But his reaction -- I wasn't sure what it would be. And I wasn't entirely sure that I was prepared for whatever it was. 

But I was here now. I was standing in front of him. There was no turning back. 

Just say it -- I heard my mind whisper. 

"Forgive me, professor." I took in a shaky breath, "But I wondered if you might be able to tell me about -- your Dark Mark."

In the first few moments, it was as if Snape had frozen like a block of ice. He didn't move a single inch from how he was standing, and I could feel my pulse quickening, fear creeping through my veins. The horrible silence dragged on, and on, and on, and on...I almost wondered if he'd put some sort of hex on me.

But when I finally managed to summon enough courage to look up at him, I was met with an expression of -- well, something I couldn't place. It seemed to be somewhere between confusion, anger, regret, and a million other things. They mixed together into a look that made me shiver, and Snape just eyed me once more, sighing through his nose. 

"That is an incredibly inappropriate question, Miss Woodwick." He finally muttered, "Where on earth did you summon the gall to ask me such a thing?"

"I know I shouldn't be asking," I straightened my spine, trying to fake a bit of confidence. But with the way he cocked his brow again, I doubted that Snape bought it. "But I -- I just think that since the Dark Lord has clearly returned, it would be good for me, and others, to learn about how it works. And I knew I had to ask you because, well, there's practically no information on it in the library, in the regular section or --" I bit my tongue, stopping the sentence before it continued and landed me in detention. 

Snape was clearly growing aggravated now, his hand moving to grip the side of the doorframe. His knuckles went white as he tightened his hold. 

"I regret to inform you, Miss Woodwick, but I am unfortunately unable to share that information with you." He prickled, "There is no need for sixth year students to be learning about the dangerous, and incredibly complex dark magic associated with the Mark."

"But that's just it," I protested, "It's dangerous and incredibly complex magic. Wouldn't it be useful for students to learn more about it, so we know how to combat it if we ever--" I stopped, unsure of how to finish the sentence.

Wanted to remove it from Draco's arm and save him before he had to make any irreversibly bad decisions?

No, I could never say that. Especially since I didn't even know if he had the mark in the first place.

My thoughts consumed me for a moment, but when I finally looked back up towards Snape, his eyes had begun to gleam with something I didn't like -- a darkness. It sent a shiver up my spine, and I stumbled backwards as he moved out into the hallway. 

"Miss Woodwick, I hope you do not take me for a fool." He lowered his voice, towering over me. I just shook my head, playing incredibly dumb. 

"I don't know what you mean, Professor."

"I'm sure you've realized by now that I have a certain involvement in maintaining the wellbeing of Draco Malfoy," He stepped closer, backing me into the wall of the corridor and making me stare up with terrified eyes. 

I just blinked, unsure of how to respond. 

How could I deny it? Of course I'd realized. 

"I know you've been watching him closely this year. Trying to figure out what's going on." He paused, "And I also know that you've recently taken a romantic interest in him."

I felt my face go as red as the blood rushing through my veins. 

"I--"

"According to what he's relayed to me, you have some sort of ill-informed idea that your constant presence will heal him in some way, though you aren't necessarily sure of what you're trying to heal. Is that correct?"

I could only stutter, every part of my face seeming to be lit on fire. 

"I -- well -- I --"

"Let me be perfectly clear, Miss Woodwick, and hopefully save you some precious time," Snape enunciated his words sharply, his lips curled over his teeth, "You are not a good thing for him."

My stomach was flipping so violently that I thought I might vomit. 

"Excuse me?"

"Your increased involvement in his personal life will not result in a positive outcome, for either of you."

I was getting angry now. 

How dare he? He didn't know anything. He didn't know the way Draco had looked at me the night before. How he'd cried, clinging to my body like an island in the middle of a story ocean. 

All of the fear I'd been feeling had quickly melted away, and I was left with rage, thinning my eyes up at Snape's scowling face. 

"I disagree."

"Your opinion on the matter means nothing to me," He raised his brows, "You're young, and naive. And so is Draco."

I could feel my cheeks flushing red, the fury bubbling up through my body and begging to explode. 

"He's not naive, and neither am I."

Snape only scoffed, and I suddenly realized that my nails had cut a dent in my palm from how tightly I was clenching my fists. 

"You are meddling in things you don't understand, Miss Woodwick." He stepped back, pulling his robes around himself and looking away. "And whether you agree with me or not, I am your superior. You will not attempt to investigate any further, and if I catch you with Draco again--" He paused, looking me up and down, "There will be consequences."

I felt something snap inside of me, and for a moment, I forgot who I was speaking to. 

"How dare you?" I hissed, my clenched teeth flashing from behind my lips, "He needs me."

"He does not know what he needs." Snape rolled his shoulders back, looking entirely unamused, "He is, however, impulsive and incredibly obsessive. Which is why I imagine he's latched onto you so intensely. Some sort of meaningless distraction, I suppose."

God, my fist was begging to connect with his nose. His incredibly long -- and large -- punchable nose. 

Maybe I wouldn't have been as angry if the events of the night before hadn't just transpired. But after seeing Draco break down like that -- after he'd clung to my body for support and fallen asleep on my chest -- after choking out sobs until he was physically exhausted and drained -- I couldn't stand what Snape was saying. 

Because he was wrong. 

"You don't know anything." I seethed, "He -- he's in pain. I can't just leave him now. I won't."

"You will only cause him more pain in the long run. And believe me, Miss Woodwick, I know far more than you think I do."

I only stared, shaking from my anger, and Snape sighed, as if the conversation was tiring to him. 

"I will know if you see him again." He stepped closer again, "Do not force me to intervene more actively."

"You can't keep me from him." I breathed, half-terrified that he, in fact, would somehow be able to. 

"I can." He said dryly, turning away and glancing down the hall. His eyes barely flickered back over me before he refused to look at me any longer. "This does not bring me any satisfaction. But I am doing what is best for both of you. In time, you may come to understand."

I could only stare. 

I had nothing left to say as Snape turned and whisked away down the hall, his robes flaring out behind him and leaving me in dead, disbelieving silence. 

I'm not sure how much time had passed before I finally recovered, wrenching my nails out of the palms of my hands and pressing my lips against the blood that had bloomed there. 

I tasted it as it slid across my tongue, the irony flavor biting at my taste buds and coating my mouth in red. Wiping it away with my shirt sleeve, I sighed, leaning back against the wall and closing my eyes. 

God, why had I thought it would be a good idea to talk to Snape?

I'd known it was risky. But my idea for the worst case scenario had been detention, not being banned from speaking to Draco ever again. 

I wasn't planning on obeying, obviously. But the added layer of stress certainly didn't help my already stressed out state of being. 

Draco didn't need to know that I'd talked to Snape. That, I was sure of. And he also didn't need to know about my new instructions not to speak to him ever again. 

I was confident that his knowledge would only make things ten times worse. He was already looking for chances to push me away. He didn't need any more encouragement.

My mind flashed back to the morning, when he'd kicked me out of his room, and my stomach did a flip, remembering the cold, distant look that had appeared in his eyes. It was that mask of his. The one he liked to wear when he was too afraid of crumbling. 

I'd figured out by now what he looked like when he was about to snap, and this morning had certainly been a close call. 

I shouldn't have threatened to go to Snape. I knew that. But in my fear of losing him, I'd said the wrong thing. 

I always seemed to be saying the wrong things. But so was he. I suppose the constant bickering was part of what I loved about us. 

After all, where's the fun in getting along all the time?


	38. All Of You

"So he refused to tell you anything?" Hermione shook her head, crumpling the newspaper between her fists and laying it flat on the table.

"He just said that it was an inappropriate question, and that it must have taken a lot of nerve to ask."

"Well," Hermione raised her eyebrows, "I can't say I disagree with him."

"You're the one who suggested this." I hissed across the table, "And now, thanks to you and your brilliant idea, Snape hates me even more than he used to."

"I believe you came up with the idea, actually." She lifted her nose, "And besides, I'm sure that's not the first time a student has questioned him about it."

"It seemed like it was."

The Great Hall was unusually empty as we sat, nibbling on our breakfast, but then again, it was rather early in the morning. After the events of the day before, I'd gotten what I could mildly call a horrible nights sleep, and getting up to start fresh had been a welcomed escape. It was taking everything in me not to dwell on the added stress that Snape's words had brought on. 

Hermione paused for a moment, seeming to think everything over. 

"So, that's it? That's all he said?"

Well, no, actually. That wasn't all he said. But it was all I was planning to tell her about. 

"That's it."

It felt wrong to keep something so important from Hermione. And I wanted to tell her. But when I really considered it, I couldn't imagine that she'd be very receptive to the idea of me and Draco together. I could already imagine the lecture I'd get about how we were two different kinds of people, and that he would never love me the way I wanted to be loved, and a million other things I didn't want to hear. 

Because I knew deep down that she would be undeniably correct. 

"It's so frustrating that I can't find any information on the Mark." Hermione shook her head, "And Snape seems to be our only option if we have any hope of learning anything. So, if we can't get him to talk, then--" She sighed. "I don't think we're going to be very successful."

I tried to hide the disappointment in my eyes, though I'd seen this conclusion coming for a while now. 

"That's alright, I don't suppose we would've been able to do much even if we knew how the Mark worked."

"I suppose not."

We were quiet for a while after that, sipping on our morning tea and nibbling absently at our breakfast. That was until the sound of Harry and Ron's voices drew our eyes in their direction, and I watched them as they strolled towards us, smiling widely. 

"Why do you both look so gloomy?" Ron slumped down next to Hermione, shoving her lightly in the arm. I'm sure he didn't notice, but she blushed. 

"It's nothing," I spoke up, "What are you boys so excited about?"

"We thought it might be fun to head to Hogsmeade for a butterbeer," Ron leaned towards me across the table, "We came to see if you two wanted to join us."

I looked to Hermione, who only raised her eyebrows and smirked. 

"We'd love to." I nodded, and Ron smiled even wider. I wondered if he felt the same way about Hermione as she so clearly did for him. 

"Brilliant." He and Harry stood up again, "We'll meet you in the courtyard in, what, thirty minutes?"

"Sounds good."

Once they were safely out of hearing range, I turned to Hermione, smiling. 

"I'll bet you're excited."

She thinned her eyes, scoffing. 

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, I don't know." I shrugged, continuing to smile, "It's just that I can't help but notice how much you blush whenever Ron comes around."

In an instant, her face was the color of the Gryffindor flag. 

"I have no earthly idea of what you're talking about."

"Hm." I raised my brows, "Alright then."

"Ronald is one of my dearest friends," She continued, unprompted, "I wouldn't dare to think of him as anything else."

"Oh, I'm sure you wouldn't." I winked. Hermione went even redder. 

With an aggravated huff, she stood, gathering her books in her arms and brushing her hair dramatically out of her face. 

"If you'll excuse me, I have an outing to get ready for."

"Ron likes the color red," I smiled innocently, "Maybe you have something in your closet."

She scoffed again, turning away and storming towards the door before I could get another word in. I watched her leave with a smile, shaking my head at how stubborn she could be. 

I knew she loved him. It had been clear to me for a while now. Because she looked at Ron the same way I looked at Draco -- like he was all she ever wanted to be seeing. 

I hoped that sooner rather than later, they would give in to what they both clearly wanted. 

But in the meantime, I had plans to get ready for. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The bathroom I'd chosen to change in looked like no one had been in it in years. I'd never been in it before, actually. I hadn't even realized that it existed until I noticed the semi-hidden doorway when I was walking in the direction of the courtyard, and conveniently, I'd been in need of a place to change out of my robes and into something more appropriate for walking around Hogsmeade. 

My old, worn out jeans and a thick, wooly sweater were draped over the sink, and I was eyeing myself in the mirror as I slipped out of my robes, undoing my shirt and pulling it over my head. The fabric had fallen down my arms and was now hanging around my wrists, my bra exposed as the cold air of the room prickled against my skin, making goosebumps skitter over my chest. 

I shivered, throwing my top to the floor and reaching for my sweater, resting on the sink. But as soon as I moved for it, a sound from behind startled me, and I gasped, drawing a quick hand over my chest and whipping around. 

I sucked in a quick breath, my veins going ice cold as I glanced up, Draco's pale gray eyes meeting my gaze. 

"Draco--" I breathed, my face instantly going redder than Hermione's had earlier. "I didn't see you there."

"No shit, Mudblood," He scoffed, "I just walked in."

My face only got redder, and I suddenly realized how naked I really was. Only a thin, lacy bra covered my top half, and a short, ill-fitting skirt stretched over my hips, unzipped on the side and ready to be taken off. 

"I--I was changing." I said awkwardly, and Draco's face didn't even show the slightest hint of emotion. 

"Yes, I can see that."

Horrible silence ensued, and I drew in a quick breath, turning back towards the sink and trying to keep my eyes away from the mirror. I could still feel his gaze on me like a laser, and my nerves pricked, the mere idea of his presence while I was half-stripped making me shiver. 

"This is the girls lavatory." I choked out.

"I'm well aware."

"Why are you here, then?"

Draco hesitated. 

"No one ever comes in here."

Instantly, I froze. 

"I just needed a good time to do it, and a place where no one would find me in time to change my mind."

His words from the other night echoed through my mind, and I spun back around, my face pale and ghostly. 

"You weren't--"

"No." He cut me off, seeming almost annoyed by the assumption, "I wasn't."

I felt a bit of relief wash through me, and I'm sure a bit of color came back to my complexion. 

"Good."

A few moments of silence passed between us before I spoke again. 

"I still need to change."

Again, Draco's face stayed blank. 

"Go ahead."

I rolled my eyes. 

"I'm not changing in front of you."

"Why not?" He scoffed, "Maybe you've forgotten, but I've seen you without a top on before."

The memory of the night of the Yule Ball flashed through my memory, and I felt my cheeks blush even brighter. I could almost still feel his mouth on my skin as he wandered over my chest, kissing softly in all the places I'd never been touched before. 

"Oh," I sucked in a quick breath, "Right. Fine, then."

I turned back towards the mirror, trying to pretend that he wasn't there as I reached down, slipping my fingertips under the waist of my skirt and slowly sliding it down my legs. My bare skin prickled at the cold, biting air, and the prying eyes of Draco behind me, who I could now see was frozen in the mirror, his gaze glued to my figure. 

I gulped, feeling like every part of my face was burning. 

My skirt was hanging around my ankles now, and I bent down slowly to pick it up, my breath hitching as I wondered what Draco was thinking about. 

But before I could wonder too much, I heard it. 

Footsteps. 

His footsteps, approaching behind me. I stood up and spun back around just in time to meet him only a few inches from my face, his eyes cold and unyielding. He towered over me, his hands staying at his sides as his gaze scanned my nearly bare chest...down to my waist...then back up. 

I watched his throat bob with a gulp, and he came back to my eyes, drawing in a slow, deep breath through his nose. 

I could only stare, my heart slamming so quickly that it was painful. 

"What are you doing?" I whispered after what felt like forever, and I felt as if all the air had been sucked from my lungs as a smirk crossed his lips, his hand reaching up to graze against mine. 

"Are you still a virgin?"

Instantly, my face went white. 

"What?"

"Are you still a virgin?"

"Wha -- why do you ask?"

"Because I'd like to know."

I gulped, trying to stop the shaking of my voice. And hands. 

"Yes. I am."

"Hm." Draco only raised his eyebrows slightly, his expression refusing to reveal any sort of emotion, and I felt my stomach churn nervously. 

"Is -- is that a problem?"

"No." He slid his eyes over my chest again, the same smirk returning to his lips. And a second later, his hand grazed against mine once more before trailing up my arm and to my shoulder. He paused there for a moment, leaning forward and pressing his lips against my bare skin, making my nerves prickle like they'd never felt something so intoxicating. 

"Draco--" I was struggling to breathe, "What -- what are you doing?"

"What do you think I'm doing?"

I nearly choked. 

"Here?"

"Why not?" He breathed, his other hand appearing at my hip and digging into my waist. I gasped. "I think we've put this off long enough, don't you?" His hands were cold -- like he was a corpse. But at the same time, they sent a warmth through my body that I couldn't describe. It was like I'd never been touched before, and his fingertips sent waves of shock through my nerves, waking me up from a lifelong slumber.

"Draco..." My bottom lip trembled, and he just shifted closer, his waist pressing against mine as he backed me into the sink. His hands snaked behind my back and to my ass, digging into my flesh with a tight squeeze and making me lightheaded.

"Tell me to stop," He muttered, leaning forward and planting his lips against my neck. It was like fireworks were exploding through my nerves every time his mouth traced along my throat, leaving tiny kisses as he went.

Every few seconds, he nipped lightly, and I moaned, my head leaning back towards the ceiling in pure bliss. I traced my eyesight along the lines in the stone as he moved lower to my exposed chest, my body trembling under his touch as his lips traced down my sternum.

I felt him smile against my skin, "Tell me you don't want this."

"I -- I do," I raised my hands, sliding them up his chest and hooking my arms around the back of his neck. "I want you."

"Which parts of me?" His voice was taunting, drawing me to insanity.

"All of you."


	39. What's With the Smile?

In an instant, I was up on the sink. I didn't even process it until my ass was pressing against the cold basin, and I shivered, feeling goosebumps skitter along my legs. I was wrapped around his waist, our pelvises pressed so closely together that I could feel every bit of him.

Every bit that I'd never felt before. 

Draco's mouth was smothering mine again -- so intensely that I couldn't even draw in a deep breath. I was left to gasping between feverish kisses, his hands gripping into my hips before sliding up to my chest. 

"Lean back," Draco huffed, his voice so low and gravely that it made me shiver. I complied immediately, leaning my back against the mirror behind me as Draco planted his hands on my thighs, yanking me closer to him and beginning to grind his hips against mine. 

The friction alone was enough to make me feel like fireworks were exploding throughout my entire body. 

My mouth hung open, emitting soft whimpers as he rocked back and forth, his weight pressing down on me as he kissed along my bare chest. Even through his trousers and my thin, lace underwear, I could feel everything. 

"You--" He rasped, "You're like a drug. Every time I try to keep myself from you I just -- I just can't."

"Then don't." I moaned, running my fingertips through his soft white hair and down to the back of his neck, grabbing at the collar of his shirt and desperately yanking it upwards. I felt him smirk against my sternum, but he didn't try to help me get the shirt off. Instead, he reached up, grabbing my wrists and bringing them over my head against the mirror. 

Leaning into me, he kissed along my bare chest, moving his tongue in slow circles down...down...down, until he'd reached my bra. 

"Take it off." He mumbled against me, and I nodded as he allowed my hands to drop down to unhook the clasp and let the fabric fall into my lap. 

For a few seconds, Draco only stared. 

Stared while my heart slammed and my face flushed red. 

I wasn't sure why I was so terrified. He'd seen my breasts before. But now, we were different people then we used to be. He was different. And maybe I wouldn't be enough for him anymore. 

I watched his throat bob, the usually perfectly combed look of his hair now messed up around my fingertips. 

My breath hitched. 

"What's wrong?"

Again, he only stared for a while. Then his jaw tightened and a tiny smirk crossed his lips. 

"I've just never seen someone so...fucking perfect." He muttered, and I felt every nerve in my body beg to explode. My voice was a whisper as I forced it out. 

"What?"

"You heard me Mudblood." He leaned me back again, resuming with the kisses along my sternum. "Bloody fucking perfect."

I huffed a disbelieving laugh. 

"You're just trying to get in my pants."

"I think I've already achieved that," He scoffed, "Now, I'm just being honest."

I was going to respond, and the words were right on the tip of my tongue, but before I could utter a single one of them, I yelped, feeling one of my nipples slide into Draco's mouth, his tongue flicking softly and making me whimper. 

"Fuck--" My breath hitched so abruptly that I was afraid I'd never be able to breathe again, and I felt myself arch my back towards him, our hips grinding together once more. 

And that was when I noticed it.

The obvious, growing bulge in his trousers, catching my attention as it pressed into my leg. 

I froze, my eyes going wide and my heart skipping several beats. I could feel my face paling instantly, and as Draco glanced up at me through his eyelashes, I watched his brows furrow. 

He pulled away from my chest, sliding up in front of my face and ghosting his lips against mine. His hands came up to the sides of my jaw, leading my head away from the mirror and pressing our foreheads together. 

"What's wrong?" He muttered, and I just gulped, desperately trying to bring the color back to my cheeks. I didn't know what was happening to me. Why was I so terrified?

I didn't want to let the assault have this kind of power over me. But every time I felt that pressure, pressing against my leg like it had that day, I was snapped back into that moment, with the boy's weight holding me down on the ground, my pants pulled down and leaving me exposed. 

"Nothing." I lied, forcing a smile and kissing him deeply. "I'm fine."

I tried to push the thought away, running my hands through his hair and over his shoulders, attempting to distract myself with the feeling of the lips. The biting taste of mint on his tongue. The cold, but comforting sensation of his hands as they rested on the sides of my face. 

But after several moments, Draco stopped, pulling away again and bringing his mouth next to my ear. 

"Don't lie to me." He muttered, "What's wrong?"

I sighed, leaning into his shoulder and closing my eyes. 

"It's so pathetic."

I felt Draco's hand slide up to the back of my neck, pulling me closer. 

"Just tell me."

Bringing my bottom lip between my teeth, I squeezed my eyes shut even tighter, trying to force the words out and ignore the hesitation that told me not to admit it. Because maybe if I didn't say it out loud, it wouldn't become a problem. What if saying it to someone only made things worse?

"I -- I keep flashing back to the assault." I managed, "Right before you saved me."

Draco was quiet, but he nodded, one of his hands beginning to stroke the back of my head. As his fingertips combed through my hair, I was surprised by the unusual act of affection. It was an unexpected development: Draco Malfoy comforting me. But I supposed it wasn't the most unexpected thing to happen thus far. 

"There was a moment, when he'd pulled my skirt down, and --" My breath hitched, but I swallowed down the lump in my throat, "and I could tell that he was about to -- start."

Another nod from Draco, and his hand moved down to the small of my back. 

"I don't want it to affect me." I whispered, "But I don't know how to forget about it."

"You don't have to forget." He mumbled, huddling me closer and holding me against his chest. "Something traumatizing happened to you."

"But--"

"It's alright to be upset." His mouth was right beside my ear, and he pressed his lips against the side of my face, kissing softly and making my heart feel as if it was melting. "Have you let yourself process what happened?"

"Well..." I huffed, "The night you pulled me out of the lake was my attempt to process things."

"So you got drunk?" He smirked, "I can't say I've never tried it before. But I'm sure you realized it's not a very helpful tactic."

"Yes, I realized."

Draco paused, his hands still resting at the small of my back. 

"We don't have to do this."

"What?" I shook my head, pulling back and grabbing his face between my palms, "No. No, I want to. I really do."

He only quirked his brow, looking entirely unconvinced. 

"I do." I softened my expression, ghosting my thumb over his cheek. "I promise."

"Hm."

"I swear on my life," I leaned forward, my lips pressing lightly against his, but holding back just enough so that it wasn't a kiss yet. "I want you."

"Do you?"

"I do." I smiled against him, "So, so, badly."

Tilting my head, I fell into him, opening my mouth and letting him slip his tongue past my lips. I moaned quietly as we melted back together, the taste of mint flooding my palette and making my chest burn with excitement. 

"You promise you're ready?" He huffed, and I nodded weakly, my hair falling down into my face as Draco shifted, his hips grinding against mine once more and that familiar feeling pressing against my leg. But this time, the panic I'd felt before didn't follow. I was too focused on the feeling building in my abdomen, growing by the second and making me whimper. 

I felt Draco's hand slip underneath the thin lacy edge of my underwear, sliding them down over my hips and to my thighs. 

"Don't freak out." He mumbled with a smirk against my lips, moving his hands to his own trousers and slowly sliding them down past his waist. 

I didn't look as they fell down his legs. 

I couldn't bring myself to. 

I just focused on the feeling of his lips against mine. His hands returning to my waist, pulling me closer to him. The sound of his uneven breathing, huffed and hurried through kisses. His soft, silky hair as it slid through my fingertips. 

But in a second, I was gripping it -- panic shooting through me as I felt him press his waist against mine once more. But this time, there was no clothing in the way. It was just skin against skin, and instead of the feeling of pressure against the side of my leg, a new sensation flooded through my core. 

I knew the color had drained from my face again, and I sucked in a quick breath, squeezing my eyes shut and trying not to think about it. 

"It's okay," Draco moved his lips back beside my head, kissing softly at the shell of my ear and repeating his words. "It's okay. It's okay. It's okay..."

I could only nod, overwhelmed by every new sensation I was feeling as Draco shifted, our hips grinding together once more before he repositioned himself in front of me, pausing. 

"Take a deep breath." He whispered. 

I did. 

"Exhale."

I did. 

"One more."

I took another deep, shaky breath. And on the exhale, I felt him side inside of me. 

I let out a pained whimper, the pressure unlike anything I'd ever felt before, and curled my fingertips into the fabric over his shoulders, trying to find some sort of security in his frame. My eyes squeezed shut, I started to suck in hurried breaths, my head spinning as Draco began to rock back and forth, the movement between my legs making me dizzy. 

"Keep breathing." He muttered, "It's alright. You're alright."

The rocking sped up, and I could hear him huffing and groaning softly beside my ear, his hair falling into his face as he curled around me. My legs squeezed at his waist every time he thrusted forward, the pressure increasing the more time passed, and slowly, the painful sensation began to melt away. 

And in its place, something else bloomed. 

I could barely process it -- the feeling surging up through my abdomen. All I knew was that I wanted more of it, my hips instinctively bucking towards his to lead him in deeper, a quiet moan escaping past my lips. 

And as soon as he heard it, Draco's entire body relaxed. 

I pressed my lips against his neck as he continued to thrust forward on the sink, leaving red marks along his skin and tracing my tongue over every vein -- every spot that made him groan softly from the back of his throat -- every dip in his collarbones and across his chest. 

"You--" He breathed, his face buried in the crook of my shoulder, "You're perfect. So perfect..."

A smile crossed my lips, and I grabbed his face between my hands, bringing his lips back to mine. 

"You're perfect, Draco." I whispered between kisses, my lips lingering against his as I spoke, "You're everything I've ever wanted."

I assumed he wasn't used to compliments like that, because as the words left my tongue, he shivered, thrusting harder into me and knocking me back on the sink. And as I leaned against the mirror, one of Draco's hands slipped under my right thigh, bending my knee and pushing my leg upwards. 

He groaned, pushing forward and sliding in all the way to the hilt of his length. I moaned loudly as the new position led him deeper into me, the angle making me lightheaded. 

"Fuck--" I gasped, looking up towards the ceiling and sucking in short breaths. 

"Say my name again." He muttered, and I smiled. 

"Draco."

"Fuck--"

"Draco..."

"Bloody hell--"

"Draco...Draco...Draco..."

"God--"

A second later, a strong, entire body shiver tore through him, and he jerked forward, a loud moan spilling from his lips as he curled around me. 

It took a moment for me to feel it -- the warmth spreading through my abdomen. But as it did, Draco's moans came to an end, and he went still against me, breathing deeply in the crook of my shoulder. 

I could feel his inhales under my fingertips as I splayed my hands over his back, tracing the creases in his shirt and breathing in the scent of his hair -- peppermint and cologne, just like usual. 

Eventually, he pulled back, his face more flushed than I'd ever seen it as he looked at me. And when I stared into his eyes, a new warmth filled my chest, because they too, looked more alive than they had in two long years. 

And in that moment, I saw the boy I used to know. The one who would follow me across a crowded dance floor and sway with me in the darkness to the sound of muted music. The one who would tell me that no constellation in the entire expanse of the sky was as beautiful to him as I was. The one who would fall asleep with me in his bed, and wake up the next morning with a smile on his face. 

The one I loved more than anything. 

There was no smile on his face now, but in his eyes, I could see it. The relief. The closest thing to happiness I'd seen for a while in his irises. 

When he pulled out, I could feel a new stickiness between my legs, making my cheeks flush pink. But Draco just slid my underwear back over my hips, moving his own pants back into place and buckling his belt before stepping away, looking me up and down with a tiny smirk. 

"You're something else, Mudblood." He huffed, "What am I supposed to do with you?"

"Just stay around," I breathed, "That's all."

Draco nodded for a moment before turning away, striding towards the door and stopping as his hand gripped around the handle. 

"I will." He muttered before ducking out in the hallway, disappearing from sight and leaving me alone in the empty bathroom, my heart stalling in my chest. 

I could hardly bring myself to pull my clothes back on, my mind spinning so dizzily that I could barely function. 

What had just happened?

I'd lost my virginity. To Draco. He'd taken it. No, I'd given it to him. He'd asked if I wanted it gone, and I did. 

As I glanced back up into the mirror, I gasped, realizing that my hair was so incredibly messed up that it was going to be an incredibly difficult task to get it to look normal again. 

And that was when the thought hit me, like a sledgehammer to my ribcage. 

Hogsmeade. 

Hermione and the boys. 

I was supposed to meet them. 

I had no idea how late I was now, and I gasped again, my stomach dropping as I quickly tried to smooth out my tangled mane of hair. 

It didn't look good by the time I was finished messing with it, but it was manageable. Smooth enough that I could play it off as a strong gust of wind, not being continuously slammed against a bathroom mirror while my legs were spread around Draco Malfoy's waist. 

My sweater was on. Whether it was on the right way, I wasn't sure. And my jeans were zipped up -- at least halfway -- as I bolted out of the bathroom and towards the courtyard, gritting my teeth as I noticed a new ache between my legs. 

It felt like I'd been stabbed through my core -- which I suppose I had been -- and every time I took a step, it throbbed uncomfortably. 

I certainly wasn't looking forward to walking around Hogsmeade with the new pain stabbing at me, but I didn't know how to play it off as anything else other than what it was. So I decided to not mention it at all. 

The courtyard coming into view up ahead, I sped towards it, coming out into the daylight and spotting the three of them sitting on a bench near the exit. 

Hermione looked up towards me first, cocking her brow as if to tell me she was extremely annoyed with my tardiness. 

"And where have you been?" She crossed her arms over her chest as I approached, huffing. "We've been waiting here for nearly half an hour now."

"Sorry," I smoothed down my hair once more, "I -- I got caught talking to Professor McGonagall about -- transfiguration class. I'm falling behind, and I needed some extra credit."

"Hm." She seemed entirely unconvinced, and I tried not to let my expression reveal the smile that was threatening to form on my lips. "Well, we'd best be on our way," Hermione rolled her eyes, "Before the sun sets."

The three of them stood and began in the direction of the pathway to the village, but I hesitated, letting them walk ahead of me a bit before following. I felt like my walk looked funny, and I wasn't prepared to answer any questions about why my stride had suddenly changed. 

We were halfway to Hogsmeade when Ron turned around to look at me, furrowing his brows and pausing. 

"What's with the smile?" He called, and I looked up, my eyes wide and shocked. 

I hadn't even noticed how wide I was smiling -- like a bloody idiot. And as soon as he pointed it out, I tried my best to wipe it from my face. 

"I'm excited to get some butterbeer, is all." I lied through my teeth, "What's the problem with smiling?"

"Hm." Ron made a similar disbelieving noise to the one Hermione had made before, and I huffed a laugh. They really were perfect for each other. 

It was only once we'd reached Hogsmeade when I realized that there was a wet spot on my jeans, and had to rush away with blushing cheeks to buy a new pair that looked almost identical to the first. 

But I had a sinking feeing that Hermione noticed it before I could slip away, because for the rest of the day, she never seemed to stop watching me with thinned, suspicious eyes. 

I just smiled back at her like an idiot, hoping that just this once, she wouldn't be smart enough to figure it out.


	40. You Forgot

That night, I couldn't sleep at all. 

I wanted to. I was more than exhausted. After walking around Hogsmeade all afternoon, and playing off the obvious change in my stride by claiming that I'd gotten a charley horse in my thigh, I'd never been more excited to end the day and slip into bed. 

But as I laid there, trying to close my eyes and drift off, I couldn't seem to relax. 

I just kept popping back awake, my gaze glued to the bed's canopy above me and tracing along the lines in the dark wood. 

And in addition, my overactive mind refused to relent from it's intrusive thoughts, and I was forced to replay every single moment in my head, wondering if I'd done everything right -- if I'd made a mistake -- if I'd even been good at it. 

He'd finished.

That was the one thing I had to hold on to. 

He'd finished, and he'd seemed pretty happy afterwards. Or maybe happy wasn't the right word. Satisfied?

But I hadn't finished. Not that I'd expected to on my first time, but still. I hadn't. Somehow, I felt like I'd done something wrong. Maybe I just hadn't been relaxed enough. Maybe I hadn't been ready. 

But it was too late now. I'd done it. It was over. 

My mind kept flashing back to Hermione, and how suspiciously she'd watched me for the rest of the day. She had to know something. I could just feel it. She was smart enough to put all the pieces together.

After all, she'd pointed out the way I looked at Draco before. I'd denied that it had anything to do with me having feelings for him, but I doubted that she believed me even then. Now, I was sure she'd figured it out. It was only a matter of time before she confronted me about it. I still wasn't sure of what I would say if she did.

The girl in the bed next to me stirred, making me jump in the darkness of the room, but she didn't wake up, only rolled over and let out a soft snore. I watched her hair flop over her face and drape over the side of the bed, blonde and almost icy colored, like Draco's. 

Draco. 

Bloody hell, I missed him already. It was pathetic how much I missed him. It had only been a few hours, and I already felt like I was going through withdraws of his presence. 

I missed his hands, roaming my figure and touching me in places that made me melt. I missed his lips -- the biting taste of peppermint, and his hair, and his eyes, and his --

I froze. 

Because suddenly, a realization occurred to me. One that I should have thought of hours before, but hadn't for some reason. 

It must have been the panic of trying to hide everything from Hermione and the boys, but the obvious slip up had completely missed me. And I couldn't believe I'd been so stupid. 

How could I have let it happen?

We didn't use a contraceptive charm.

In an instant, I was out of my bed. I didn't even think about it before I grabbed a sweater from on top of my bedside table, wrapping it around me and starting for the door. I slipped out into the hallway undetected, my heart slamming so loudly that I was sure I would wake up the entire Ravenclaw house. 

Tip-toeing down into the common room, I glanced around, making sure the coast was clear before I bolted out the door, making my way into the winding hallways of the castle. 

God, I hated walking around the school at night. Every new turn made you feel like you were about to walk straight into a ghost -- or worse -- and the random noises from the paintings on the wall didn't help to calm my nerves. 

A few of them tried to speak to me as I sped past, heading straight for the hidden entryway to the Slytherin common room. 

"Where'ya goin' missy?" One whispered -- a fat lady, dressed in some kind of Victorian style garments. But I ignored her completely, my mind much too consumed with panicking thoughts of what could be happening inside my body to bother responding to her. 

No, no, I wouldn't let myself think about that yet. I wasn't going to worry about it, until there was something to worry about. I just needed to talk to Draco. Draco would know what to do. 

He always knew what to do. 

The door to the common room appeared -- or didn't appear -- quicker than usual, as I was pretty much sprinting instead of walking down into the dungeons, and I sped towards it, gasping with some sort of relief as I pressed my hands against the surface. 

It was only then when I realized I had no idea how to get in. 

The three times I'd come on my own before were different. Once, the door had been enchanted for the party. The second time, Draco had let me in himself. And the third -- well, I really didn't want to think about the third. But still, I didn't know how I was supposed to get past it without any help. 

A few minutes passed in pathetic attempts, none of which were successful, and eventually, I slumped down to the ground, my back pressing against the stone wall as I rubbed my eyes with the back of my hands. 

"Fucking hopeless," I groaned, feeling a frustrated lump form in the back of my throat. No -- I told myself -- you are not going to break down here, all alone in the dungeons trying to break into the Slytherin common room. That was more pathetic than even I could deal with. 

Thankfully, I forced the lump back down my throat, fighting the tears away and looking up towards the ceiling. 

But I still had no way to get it. 

"Hey--" A voice startled me suddenly, and gasped, looking up with wide eyes. But to my confusion, there was no one standing in front of me, the empty hallway staring back in my direction. "Hey!" The voice came again, and I pushed myself off the ground, looking around for the source of the sound. 

"Who's there?" I drew my wand from my pocket, pointing it into the darkness and trying to calm the prickling fear in the back of my mind. 

"Oh, put that away." The voice scoffed, "I'm over here! On the wall."

Still confused, I stepped forward, following the voice to a large painting, a young man's face staring back at me. And a second later, the picture spoke. 

"Wipe that shocked look off your face, will you?" He raised his brows, "You've seen paintings speak before."

"Yes, I just didn't see you there." I cleared my throat, "Sorry."

"Save it." He waved his hand, "So, why don't you tell me why you're trying to break into the Slytherin common room?"

"Oh, no, I'm not--"

"Did someone throw a hex your way? Trying to get some revenge?"

"No, not at all."

"What then?"

I paused, considering how much I should tell him. 

"I'm need to speak with someone. It's urgent."

"Urgent, eh?" The painting crossed his arms, leaning back, "How urgent?"

"Very urgent."

"Hm. And who is it you're trying to speak with?"

Again, I hesitated. I hoped Draco hadn't done anything to offend the man in this painting. 

"Malfoy." I gulped, "Draco Malfoy."

For a moment, the painting just stared at me. But then, I watched his lips turn up into a smirk, and a second later, he bursted out in laughter. 

"Draco Malfoy?" He curled over, laughing to hard that I thought he might fall forward out of the picture frame. "What ever could you need from that slimy git?"

My face went red. 

"That git is--" I searched for the word, "My -- well, he's -- um --"

"Ah, so you're snogging him, are you?" The painting laughed again, "My stars, I've seen lots of couples pass through this hall. But I have to say, I never expected the day I'd see a girl come for Draco Malfoy--"

Another loud laughing fit overtook him, and he slapped at his knee, his face going red from how hilarious he found the situation. Eventually, he tired himself out, gasping for breath as he looked back down at me. 

"Well, Miss Malfoy," He smiled devilishly, "What business are you here to see your boyfriend for?"

"He's not my--" I stopped myself, sighing, "I just need to talk to him. It's personal."

"Well, I do have the password to the door." He crossed his arms again, "But unless you tell me why you're here, I'm afraid I won't be able to let you in."

"Sir -- please." I rolled my eyes, "It's not something you want to hear about."

"Oh I disagree," He shook his head, "See, not too many people talk to little old me. So I won't pass up on hearing some good gossip. And you seem to have a story to tell."

I was reaching a limit on my patience, and I sighed, shoving my hands into the deep pockets of my sweater and looking down at the ground. Honestly, I didn't care if the painting knew why I was here. And besides, if I wanted the password, it didn't seem like I had any other options. So pushing the embarrassment to the back of my mind, I blurted: 

"Draco and I had sex and forgot to use a contraceptive charm. I need to speak to him as soon as possible so I don't end up pregnant."

For a while, the painting said nothing -- just stared at me with wide eyes. It was almost like he couldn't believe that I'd actually told him, and part of me didn't believe it either. But I wasn't in the position to waste time, so I spoke again. 

"Are you looking for more details?"

"No, no." The painting snapped out of his trance, "No, sorry. I didn't -- never mind. The password is 'Pureblood'."

I scoffed. 

"Of course it is."

I was glad to leave the man in the painting behind as I muttered the password in front of the wall, sliding through the stoney mirage and coming out on the other side of the barrier. Darkness swallowed me whole once I was inside, all of the lights in the common room blown out and the fireplace cold and dead. 

I tip-toed along, trying to glance around every few seconds in the blackness of the night, the windows neglecting to even let the tiniest bit of light in. 

Stepping up the staircase, I prayed with everything in me that no one would move down them, or be standing in the hallway when I reached the top. Thankfully, no one was, and I hurried with quiet feet to what I remembered to be Draco's door, stopping in front of it and drawing my wand out of my pocket. 

"Draco." I whispered, so quietly that I was sure he wouldn't be able to hear me. And when he neglected to answer the door, I took matters into my own hands. 

"Alohomora." I pointed my wand at the handle, listening as the lock clicked open and allowed me inside. I did a silent celebration, wrapping my hand around it and twisting it as quietly as possible. 

The door creaked open, the sound making me wince. But to my relief, not only did no one appear in the hallway, but Draco still hadn't stirred inside the room. It was pitch black inside, except for a single candle burning on his bedside table, lighting its surroundings just enough to outline Draco's sleeping figure on the mattress, wrapped in a thin green blanket. 

I closed the door behind me, stepping into the room and sighing happily. 

It was only then that I remembered why I'd come, and once again, my stomach felt as if it had dropped to the ground. 

Draco, on the other hand, looked perfectly calm and relaxed. 

I shook my head with disbelief as I approached his bedside, watching as he slept soundly, his head resting against his monogrammed pillow case and his mouth hanging open slightly in a silent snore. 

At first, I was aggravated that he was able to sleep at all, when I was pretty much driven to sleep-deprived madness. But on second thought, I was glad he was finally resting. 

Those dark circles under his eyes had faded a bit ever since he'd passed out on my chest a few nights before, and I was more than relieved to see that he was actually sleeping through the night now. 

And part of me hesitated to try and wake him up. 

He looked so peaceful, the worry lines on his forehead missing and his brows unfurrowed. There was no stress in the creases of his eyes. No frown on his lips. 

Just him, as he was without the painful reality the world had thrust him into. 

The thought of climbing in bed next to him and falling asleep crossed my mind. But I was here for a reason. This situation was largely his fault, after all. He would just have to sleep another time. 

"Draco." I whispered, kneeling beside the bed and resting my hands on the mattress in front of his face. When he didn't stir, I raised my palm to his arm. 

"Draco." I tried again, shaking him lightly, and he groaned. He still wasn't awake. 

"Christ, Draco, wake up." I shook him harder, and finally, he moved, his hands coming up to block his face like I was trying to shine a bright light in his eyes. 

"Mother, it's early--" He whined, and I rolled my eyes so dramatically that I thought they might get stuck that way. 

"I am not your mother, you bloody idiot." I hissed, "Open your eyes."

His hands fell away slowly, and his tired eyes squinted at me in the darkness. His expression portrayed only confusion for a moments, as if he suddenly couldn't remember my face, and I grabbed the candle, moving it closer in front of me until his eyes adjusted. 

"Mudblood?" He said, his voice groggy and sleep filled. 

"Yes." I placed the candle back on the table, "And I think we discussed you not calling me that anymore."

"What the hell are you doing here?" He groaned, burying his face back in his pillow, "It's got to be the middle of the night."

"It is. But I needed to see you."

An annoying smirk crossed his lips. 

"Bloody hell, already? Was I just that good?"

"Oh, shut up." I smacked his arm, and he flinched, "I'm here because--"

The words hung on the tip of my tongue. I wasn't exactly sure of how he'd react. 

"You forgot to use a contraceptive charm."

Within a split second, Draco was sitting upright, his eyes wide. 

"What?"

"You forgot to use one. So now--" I huffed a laugh, trying to hide the fear in my voice, "I need some ideas, because I'm starting to panic a bit."

Draco's face was looking paler than usual now, and as his eyes flickered over my face, I could almost see what he was thinking. 

"Okay -- okay -- I --" He stuttered, standing up abruptly and pushing past me to the middle of his room, beginning to pace back and forth, "I've never forgotten before."

"Well, that doesn't do us much good now."

"Clearly." He hissed, and I flinched at his tone, already feeling emotionally fragile enough to snap. 

"Don't snap at me." I whispered, and he turned in my direction, his expression hardened and pale. 

"I didn't--" He started to argue, but as soon as his eyes fell on my face, I watched his eyes soften. Slumping his shoulders forward, he stepped towards me, pulling me into his arms and letting my head lay against his chest. "I'm sorry."

I nodded, taking in a deep breath and letting his embrace calm my nerves, his mere presence making me feel a bit more secure. 

"There's got to be something -- a potion, or a charm? Something to fix it."

"There is." He rested his chin on top of my head, "I've heard of a potion."

"Brilliant. Where do we find it, then?"

Draco hesitated, his muscles tensing underneath my fingertips. 

"I think Professor Snape has a vial."


	41. The Heist

"No." My response was quick. "Absolutely not."

"What do you mean 'absolutely not'?" Draco furrowed his brows, "Do you have any other suggestions?"

"We can't go to Snape."

"Well, I can't say I'm looking forward to it either, but--"

"No, Draco, we cannot, under any circumstances, go to Professor Snape."

"You can't just keep saying that. Give me a legitimate reason."

I buried my face back in his chest. I was really hoping that I wouldn't have to have this conversation. Ever. For one, because he was about to be furious with me for speaking to Snape at all. And second, because I would have to lie about why I went to speak to him in the first place. 

Honestly, I was surprised that Snape hadn't already told Draco himself. But I supposed he was playing some sort of game with him, trying to get him to believe that I'd just lost interest. If he didn't tell him that he'd instructed me not to speak to him anymore, there would be no reason for Draco to be angry with him. And if all went to Snape's plan, Draco would've assumed that I abandoned him when he needed me most. 

Unfortunately for Snape, I hadn't considered obeying his instructions for even a second. Maybe he should've taken my stubbornness into account when he hatched his plan.

"Snape gave me very clear instructions never to speak to you again." I mumbled into his chest, "So, if we go to him now, it'll be a pretty dead giveaway that I didn't listen."

Draco grabbed my shoulders, pushing me out in front of him and holding me there. 

"He what?"

I only nodded. 

"When did this happen?" I could tell he was already angry. At me or at Snape, I wasn't sure yet. 

"A few days ago." I continued carefully, "The day after I slept over in your dorm..."

Draco's face had turned a color white that I was sure meant he was dying. 

"And why," He whisper-hissed, "Were you speaking to him in the first place?"

"He found me walking back to my room that morning, after you kicked me out," I lied, praying that he would buy it, "He caught us together in the Astronomy tower, remember? I'm sure he'd been planning to say it to one of us ever since then."

Draco's eyes were pinched into thin slits, scanning over my face doubtfully. But I tried to keep my expression as blank as possible, the fear that he would see straight through my lie lingering in the back of my mind. 

"Fine." He finally sighed, clearly still frustrated, "We won't go to Snape."

"Thank you."

"So we'll just have to take it without asking, then."

I shook my head. 

"What? No."

"I don't know of anywhere else to find a potion like the one we need, and unless you want to risk -- it -- then we're doing this."

"Draco, no, this is an awful idea."

"I'm not disagreeing with you," He smirked annoyingly, "But unless you have another suggestion, it's the best idea we've got."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thirty minutes later, and I was already shaking at the idea of sneaking down to Snape's office. After the unpleasant experience I'd had there the first time, I wasn't looking forward to going back, especially when my motive was less than positive. 

"I can't do this." I whispered to Draco as we slipped out of his dorm room, "We're going to get caught."

"Better than you getting knocked up, right?" He barely looked over at me as we hurried down the hallway, squeezing my hand tightly in his and yanking me along behind him. 

The Slytherin common room was still dead quiet and pitch black as we sped through it, slipping through the false wall and coming out on the other side in the hallway. I barely even remembered the presence of the painting on the wall until the young man's voice came out of nowhere, making both of us leap back and yelp. 

"Ah, so your mission was successful, I see?" The man smiled down at me, raising up his hand to one side of his face and lowering his voice as if he was trying to whisper only to me. "Tell me, how did he take the news?"

Draco's face paled next to me. 

"Fine." I said quickly, "Sorry to cut this short, sir, but we really have to be going."

"Ah," He sighed, sounding disheartened, "I see. Always too busy to talk to the pathetic painting on the wall. No one ever wants to stay and spend time with old Sir..."

I didn't hear the rest of his monologue, pulling Draco away down the hall and ducking behind a corner, happy to escape the painting and it's sorrowful speech. 

The dungeons were freezing. Even colder than I remembered them being when I'd rushed through them earlier that night, and I huddled my sweater around me, trying to cure the goosebumps that appeared on my arms. 

But the chill didn't last long, the door to Snape's office appearing in front of us and sending a wave of hot, nervous-sweat inducing panic over me. 

"You sound like you're hyperventilating," Draco hissed next to me, "Stop."

"I'm not trying to hyperventilate genius," I snapped back, "But sure, let me stop just because you asked me to."

Draco only rolled his eyes as we stopped in front of Snape's door, both of our hearts slamming in unison. 

"Does he sleep in his office?" I whispered, grabbing Draco's wrist abruptly as he reached for the handle.

"Don't know." He mumbled, "I guess we'll see." Another reach for the handle, and I stopped him again. 

"That's not going to work. You have to unlock it first."

"Oh." Draco shook his head, "Right."

He drew his wand out of the pocket of his sweatpants, muttering "Alohomora" quietly as the lock clicked open. I was surprised as it obeyed his spell, figuring that Snape would have some sort of protective charm on his office. But so far, that wasn't seeming to be the case. 

Draco gripped the handle tightly, and I couldn't help but notice that his hand was shaking -- just the tiniest bit -- as he twisted it, pulling the door open with a loud pop. 

We both winced, but nothing bad seemed to happen in the moments to follow, and a sigh of relief calmed my frayed nerves. 

It was still dark in the hallway, but my eyes had adjusted a bit more, and I was able to make out the outline of tall shelves on either side of the room, stretching all the way up to the ceiling and stocked full with thousands of vials and bottles, filled with a rainbow variety of liquid colors. 

Draco glanced around for a moment before taking my hand again, an action that made my heart flutter before I remembered why we were there in the first place, and he stepped forward, his eyes fixed on a shelf a good ways away from where we could reach. 

Even Draco's tall frame wouldn't help to retrieve it, and he groaned, drawing his wand out once more. 

"Accio contraceptive potion."

God, why hadn't I thought of that? Probably because it seemed too simple. Too easy. Why was this so easy?

The potion lifted slowly from the shelf and floated slowly down to Draco's hand, where he gripped it tightly and tucked it into his pants pocket. I caught a glimpse of it before he hid it away -- the liquid inside deep purple in color and seeming to glitter with some sort of reflective substance. 

"Alright." He squeezed my hand tightly, "Let's get out of here."

To my surprise, Snape didn't ever emerge from another part of the office. Didn't show up in the hallway as we rushed back towards the Slytherin common room. Wasn't standing with his arms crossed over his chest as we sped back into Draco's dorm, closing the door behind us and collapsing on his mattress with relieved laughs.

"Bloody hell," Draco huffed, his arm wrapped around my waist and pulling me towards him. He curled around me, holding me in a way that felt almost protective. "I didn't think we'd actually be able to do it."

I smiled, savoring the warm feeling of his body pressed against mine. 

"Me neither." 

We were quiet for a while, before Draco shifted closer, his lips connecting with the exposed skin on my neck and shoulder. I shivered as he kissed up and down, whispering as he came up beside my ear. 

"I won't ever forget the charm again," He mumbled, "I'm sorry."

"It's not all your fault." I sighed, "I distracted you with my panicking."

"No, I should have remembered." His arm curled around my waist, pressing against my abdomen.

My mind flickered to a thought that scared me more than anything. But also, made my heart glow with a strange kind of happiness. 

"I won't make the same mistake again. I promise."

"You make a lot of promises."

"I'll keep this one."

We were quiet for a while after his words, the only sound the occasional creaking of his bed posts and the popping of the still lit candle wick. That was until I shifted, turning over to face Draco on the mattress. 

"I still need to take the potion." I whispered, staring straight into his icy eyes, trying to absorb every bit of depth they had to offer. Draco nodded slowly, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the small vial, glinting even in the darkness. 

He handed it to me, our fingertips brushing together as the potion passed between our palms, and I blushed, sitting up and taking a good look at it. 

The purple liquid swirled around in its glass container as I swished the bottle back and forth, watching the reflective bits flash back at me. 

"Well," I sighed, popping off the stopper and leaning my head back, "Cheers."

I tilted the bottle up to my lips, opening my mouth and letting the liquid flood down my throat, trying my best to ignore the strong -- and extremely unpleasant -- flavor it covered my taste buds in. For some reason, I'd expected such a pretty looking concoction to taste better. 

A single gag, and I managed to swallow it all down, keeling over on my hands and knees as I felt it begin to take effect inside me, the potion moving into my stomach and bubbling uncomfortably. 

Draco looked more than concerned as I groaned, burying my face in one of his pillows as I sharp pain came from my lower abdomen, searing like someone had poured hot lava over my insides, followed by a sensation like a knife carving out my reproductive organs. 

"Fuck--" I gasped, "Fuck, fuck, fuck--"

"Do you need me to go get help?" Draco put a hand on my back, but I just swatted him away, groaning again as the pain only increased. 

I screamed out, my voice muffled by the pillow, as a purple glow suddenly emitted from my abdomen, making Draco's face go even paler as his hand returned to my back. I didn't have the energy to swat him away as the agony finally subsided, leaving me empty and exhausted as I flopped down on the mattress. 

Draco's hand lingered on my back for a while, before he mustered up enough courage to move next to me, his arm sliding around my waist and bringing me back into the position I was before, tucked into the curve of his body. Held tightly by his hooked arm, I tried to breathe deeply, the last aftershocks of the pain fading away until they were only a memory. 

Eventually, I gathered up enough energy to speak. 

"I didn't know it would hurt that bad."

Draco huffed softly into my hair, his chin coming to rest against the top of my head. 

"I didn't either."

"Better than labor, I guess."

"Definitely better than that."

The conversation was interrupted by my thoughts, and I began to wonder again why it had been so easy to swipe the potion. I really thought Snape would have made it a little more difficult to steal from his office, or even break in in the first place. 

"It's strange, don't you think?" I spoke, "How easy it was to get into Snape's office?"

Draco shrugged. 

"I hadn't thought about it."

"I just assumed he would have more obstacles in the way. Not just a lock that could be undone by a simple 'Alohamora' charm."

"I suppose he didn't think anyone would have the nerve to steal from him."

"This just doesn't feel right." I shook my head, "I mean, what if he--"

"Stop." Draco interrupted me with a hand over my mouth. "It's late, Mudblood."

"Well, I'm not going to be able to sleep." I spoke through the gaps in his fingers. 

"Try it." He mumbled, his face burying deeper in the mane of my hair. "Maybe you'll surprise yourself."

"I won't."

"Just -- shut up."

Draco huddled me closer, finally bringing his hand away from my mouth and tucking it under my waist. 

I pretended to be angry for a moment, just for appearances, before I allowed myself to nestle into the space between his legs, our limbs intertwining like branches of a tree and bringing us closer together. 

"I sleep better when I think about you." He mumbled into my hair, "You actually being here is a nice bonus."

A warm smile crossed my face. 

"I'll always be here, you know?" I felt him nod. "Always."

"Always?"

"Always. Until all of the constellations fall out of the sky."

Draco was asleep within minutes, and I couldn't help but drift off with him. 

There was something comforting about being wrapped in his arms. The warmth of it. The calming sensation of his heartbeat slamming against my back. His face buried in my hair. His inhales, slow and elongated, as he slipped into a deep sleep. 

It was a feeling that I never wanted to forget, no matter how long it had been since I last felt it. 

Even now, I can remember that feeing.


	42. Come Back

I slipped out of Draco's room before he ever began to stir, planting a quick, soft kiss on his forehead and leaving a scribbled note on his bedside table. 

I did fall asleep, actually -- I wrote -- I really hate when you're right, but maybe you're more comforting than I give you credit for. I'll see you soon, Malfoy.

\- Mudblood

The candle's light had finally died out by the time I closed his door behind me, and in the early morning, a bit of sunlight was beginning to seep through the windows in the common room, somehow making it down through the waters of the Black Lake. 

Thankfully, no one had emerged from their dorm rooms yet, and I was able to escape into the regular hallway without being spotted. And to my even bigger relief, the man in the painting also seemed to be asleep. His head had lulled to the side, though he was still upright in a seated position. But his eyes were closed, and a faint snoring sound escaped past his lips, making me smile as I rushed past. 

I supposed I was just about the luckiest person alive as I snuck back into the Ravenclaw common room, seeing that no one was awake yet there either, and I was able to get back into my bed unnoticed. I beamed up at the ceiling, my heart still beating from the nerve-wrecking trip back. 

I'd be able to pretend I was there all night, and no one would know that I'd stepped a single foot out of the room. 

And if all went to plan, Snape would never find out what we'd done, either. 

I just hoped my lucky streak continued for the next few days.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You look exhausted." Hermione furrowed her brows at me from across the table, our lunch plates in the way as she tried to lean towards me to get a better look. 

"Thanks, 'Mione."

"No, I don't mean it as an insult. You just look like you haven't gotten any sleep in the last week."

"Again," I smiled fakely, "Thanks."

It had been two whole days since the potion-stealing incident, and as far as I knew, it had gone off without a hitch. I'd passed Snape a few times in the halls without problem, and I assumed that if he hadn't figured it out by now, he never would. 

"Sorry," Hermione went back to reading her copy of the Daily Prophet, where one of the headlines suddenly caught my eye. 

Malfoy Family Disgraced After Lucious Malfoy is Sent to Azkaban -- Now What Will Become of Them and Their Legacy? 

My stomach dropped. 

I hadn't even thought about the fact that Luscious was in Azkaban. I mean, I'd known, through whispers and gossip, but I hadn't dedicated a lot of thought to the topic. I suppose I should have. After all, maybe that was why Draco was so upset. His father was in prison. 

But that was when it hit me. 

Lucious was in Azkaban. 

Azkaban. 

Where Draco couldn't see him. 

And if he was trapped there, Lucious couldn't have hit him with the end of his cane.

Draco's words swirled through my mind, making me grip the table with the realization of what had gone completely over my head. 

"It was my father." He'd told me, "The bruise. My father gave it to me."

He'd lied. He'd lied about who gave him the bruise. 

But why? What would the reason behind it be? Certainly, it was a believable lie. I hadn't been very surprised when he'd said it. And maybe that was why it had gone right over my head -- the obvious impossibility of it. 

Had he meant for me to figure out that it wasn't the truth? I wasn't sure. But now, my head was spinning, and I shoved back from the table, standing abruptly. 

"Where are you off to in such a hurry?" Hermione called as I began to rush away, and I froze, turning back towards her.

"I think I'm going to vomit." I half-lied, "I need to go to the infirmary."

"Oh no." Hermione looked concerned, "Well, maybe wait a little while. Go to the bathroom instead."

"Why wait?"

"I--" She lowered her voice, "I heard Malfoy is stuck in there, sick to his stomach. I'm sure you don't want to see that. Can't be a very pretty sight."

Suddenly, I only wanted to vomit more. 

"What?"

"He's been there since last night, apparently." She sighed, "Don't know why."

I was running before I could process what was happening, the Great Hall disappearing behind me as I bolted for the infirmary. I was sure that Hermione might be even more suspicious after the display I'd just put on, but I really didn't care. 

All I cared about was getting to Draco. 

I couldn't believe I hadn't known he was sick. But then again, I supposed if he was stuck in the infirmary then there was really no one else to tell me that something was wrong. 

The door to the large room appeared in front of me minutes later, and I gasped for breath as I leaned against the wall of the corridor, trying to calm myself down before I walked inside. 

I contained myself, taking in several deep breaths before I hurried inside, the sight of Madame Pomfrey meeting me first. 

As she spotted me, her lips twisted into a wide smile, and she walked in my direction, her arms crossed over her chest. 

"I wondered when you might show up, dear." She stopped in front of me, "He's over here."

I tried to hide the blush that appeared on my cheeks as she spoke, following her to the back of the room where my eyes fell on a very, very pale looking Draco Malfoy, his eyes closed and his head laying back on a fluffy pillow. 

He looked as if all the blood had been drained from his veins, and his hairline was drenched in sweat, his mouth hanging open with shallow breaths. 

"What's wrong with him?" I breathed, worry bubbling up through my stomach and making it twist painfully.

Madame Pomfrey's face contorted with an expression I couldn't place, and she just sighed, resting a hand on my shoulder. 

"I think you'd better ask him yourself, dear." She nudged me forward, towards Draco's cot, and I shot her a confused look before complying. I walked tentatively to his bedside, my eyes scanning over his frail body underneath the thin sheets.

He really did look awful. 

Even skinnier than usual, and so pale he could be a corpse. I could almost see the blood vessels through his skin. 

"Draco," I said softly, bringing my hand up to brush against his on the mattress. But just as soon as I'd spoken his name, his eyes shot open, and he stared at me as if he was seeing a ghost. 

A second later, and his lip had twisted into a nasty snarl. 

"What the hell are you doing here?" He hissed, so venomously that I flinched. 

"I -- I heard you were sick."

He rolled his eyes, letting his head fall back down onto the pillow. 

"Clearly."

"What's going on?" I pulled up a stool, sitting down beside him and lowering my voice, "You look awful."

"I appreciate it, Mudblood." He scoffed. 

"Oh, save it, you know that's not what I mean. Why didn't you tell me you were sick?"

"I've been a bit preoccupied." He whisper-hissed, his eyes closed again, "I didn't think to alert you."

"Seriously?"

"Yes." He snapped, "You're not my wife, are you? No. Just because I fucked you once doesn't mean you get to act like my spouse."

I stalled, thrown off by his words. 

I supposed being sick only made him ruder. I couldn't say I was too surprised. 

"No, I'm not your wife. But I'm--" I struggled to find a word to describe my role in his life. "I'm someone that cares about you and would like to know when you're in the infirmary."

Draco only scoffed. 

"I'll keep that in mind for next time."

"Draco," I grabbed his hand, making his eyes shoot open again with a dangerous look in them. I was shocked that he didn't pull away. "Will you please tell me what's wrong with you?"

"Nothing's wrong with me." He lied through clenched teeth, "I'm completely fine."

"You most definitely are not fine," Madame Pomfrey interrupted our conversation, stepping away from folding the sheets of another cot and coming back to Draco's bedside. "Tell her the truth or I will."

"Fine." Draco hissed, clearly infuriated that someone else was there to handle his attitude. "I'm throwing up. So what? It'll stop eventually."

"You can't keep anything down." Madame Pomfrey interjected again, "Not even water. And you're extremely dehydrated."

"Yes." Draco only shut his eyes again, flopping back against the pillow.

"He didn't even come here on his own accord," Pomfrey huffed, "Professor Snape found him passed out in his dorm room. I have no idea how long he was there, unconscious, before he was found. It was a very, very irresponsible thing to do. Not to mention dangerous."

"Well I'm alive, aren't I?" Draco mumbled, and I swatted at his arm.

"Barely. You look like a corpse."

Madame Pomfrey nodded in agreement, and Draco only pretended to ignore us, turning on his side and facing in the other direction. 

I didn't speak for a while -- just watched him in silence as he breathed shallowly, his throat bobbing as if he were trying to swallow down more vomit. But eventually, Madame Pomfrey sighed, turning to me with an exasperated expression. 

"I hate to do this, but I have to be going. A student fell into a briar patch just by the Black Lake and gave themselves a number of gashes all over. I'll be back shortly, but while I'm gone, would you mind watching after Mr. Malfoy? Just to make sure he doesn't do anything irresponsible?"

I nodded quickly. 

"Oh, yes, I don't mind at all."

"Oh, thank you, dear," She smiled, handing me a small thermometer and a bottle of bubbling pink liquid. "Take his temperature every thirty minutes, and if he throws up again --" She patted the bottle, "Give him a cup full of this. He'll hate it, but he's got to drink every last drop. Otherwise, it's completely useless."

"Got it." I set the materials down on the table next to his cot. "Anything else?"

"Don't let him leave that bed." She waved an accusatory finger in Draco's direction. "If I come back and he's gone, I'll take 100 points from Slytherin. Do you hear me Mr. Malfoy?"

"I'm not deaf." He snapped, and Madame Pomfrey just rolled her eyes. 

"Very well." She took one last look between the two of us before turning and walking away, closing the infirmary doors behind her and leaving us completely alone. 

I turned back to Draco's pale figure, watching as a shiver ran through him, and he let out a soft groan, his face twisting with discomfort. 

My heart lurched, the sight of him this ill making me feel more than awful. I supposed I could bring up the topic of his father another time, when he was less then dead looking. 

"I'm sorry you're so sick." I slid my hand back onto the mattress until I found his limp hand, cold and clammy as I took it. "I would take it from you if I could."

Draco just made a small noise in acknowledgement, and I sighed, stepping off the stool and sliding up onto the end of the mattress. 

He raised his head slightly as I did, his eyes thinned towards me. 

"What are you doing?"

"Shh," I shut him up as I climbed into the cot next to him, running my hand up and down his arm, "I'm laying with you."

"I don't need you to coddle me like I'm a child," He snapped, "This really isn't necessary."

"I know." I ran a hand over his forehead, feeling the dampness at his hairline and the heat of his skin. He definitely had a fever. "But I want to."

"Mudblood--"

"Shut up, Draco, will you?" I led his head back down onto the pillow, "You took care of me when I needed you. Let me help you for once."

He hesitated for a moment, before sighing like it was the most frustrated he'd ever been. 

"Fine."

"Good." I curled up next to him, feeling his back press against my chest as my arms wrapped around him, holding him loosely enough that he wouldn't feel claustrophobic on the small cot. His muscles were tense at first, and he felt hot to the touch, like every part of his body was burning with fever. But slowly, he gave in, melting towards me and letting out the stiffness his muscles had been carrying. 

And eventually, he seemed to forget that he'd been aggravated at my presence in the first place, turning over on his side to face me and laying his head on my chest. I could hardly believe it as he did, but I tried to contain my excitement, taking in slow, deep breaths as I stroked through his damp hair, unsticking the thin, white strands from his forehead and tucking them back into place. 

"Aren't you worried that one of your precious little friends is going to walk through the door and see us together?" He mumbled after a while, and I just shook my head. 

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't care if they know."

Draco sounded entirely unconvinced as he spoke again. 

"Really?"

"Yes, really. I don't care who knows, because I'm proud to be with you."

"Proud?" He scoffed, "What's there to be proud of?"

"Lots of things." I ran my hands along his arms, covered in a thin grey sweater, "Would you like a list?"

"No." He said quickly, but I was sure he wouldn't mind if I gave him one. 

"Well, for one, you're smart. So smart. I've never forgotten that you were top of our class in potions."

Draco huffed. 

"And you're brave. Braver than I am, without a doubt. And strong, and confident."

He was quiet now, seeming to only have the energy left to listen. 

"And you're handsome," I continued, my face heating up, "So handsome. The most handsome person I've ever seen, in fact."

"That's ridiculous." He mumbled, and I kissed the top of his head, shutting him up.

"No, it's not."

"Are you always this sappy?" He rolled his eyes, but I caught the sight of a faint smile on his lips. "Or am I just noticing it now."

"I'm only sappy when people need to hear it." He'd put his arm across me now, his head supported by my chest. "And you certainly look like you need to hear it."

Draco went quiet for a while, taking in shallow breaths and clinging to me every time he thought he might vomit again. And for a while, he was able to hold off the nausea, until suddenly, he shot up, slapping his hand over his mouth and reaching for a bucket resting on the bedside table.

A second later, he gagged, his knuckles going bright white as he clutched the sides of the metal pot, emptying what was left of his stomach into the hole and coughing violently while I rubbed his back. 

It went on for longer than I expected, and I could only feel awful for him, the color of his face when he finally pulled it out of the bucket so gray that it looked like he'd thrown up most of his internal organs. 

I was sure that there couldn't possibly be anything left in his entire body after all that. 

"Sorry you had to see that," He croaked, his voice hollow sounding. 

"Don't be." I leaned him back again, taking the bucket and setting it down on the table, "I don't mind."

I let him rest for a little while before I reached for the bubbling pink liquid. 

"Madame Pomfrey said you have to drink this." I gestured it towards him, "I don't think it's supposed to taste very good, but..."

"That looks disgusting." He turned away, "I'm fine, thanks."

"You're going to drink it." I poured a cup full of the liquid into a glass, going all the way up to the brim, "I don't care if it tastes like pumpkin juice or not."

"No."

"Drink it, Draco." I shoved it towards him, "Or I'll go through the Great Hall at dinnertime yelling about how much you love to cuddle."

In an instant, Draco grabbed the glass, downing it like a shot.

He gagged and coughed as the last few drops slid down his throat, shoving the glass back into my hands and wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. 

"Disgusting." He muttered under his breath, cringing at the taste still lingering on his tongue. 

"I have to take your temperature now." I set the glass down, picking up the thermometer Madame Pomfrey had left behind. 

"When did you suddenly become a bloody nurse?"

I smirked. 

"Just now."

A bit of convincing, and I finally got Draco to let me slide the thermometer under his tongue, resting it there until the thin stick beeped with his results. Luckily, it shut him up for at least a minute. 

"A hundred degrees." I sighed, "You've still got a fever."

Draco's eyes rolled on cue.

"What a surprise."

"I just don't understand why you're so sick all of a sudden. I mean, you were fine two days ago."

"Lots of things can change in two days, Mudblood." He leaned back against his pillow, closing his eyes.

"What's that supposed to--"

I was abruptly interrupted as the doors to the infirmary swung open, and instead of Mrs. Pomfrey walking back through them, I was met with a much more unpleasant sight. One that nearly made my stomach fall to the floor. 

Professor Snape barged into the room without warning, his dark eyes immediately falling on the two of us, sitting in the same cot with our bodies laying close together. 

If looks could have killed, Snape would have murdered us both on the spot. 

"Good afternoon, Professor." I said cooly, barely even realizing that Draco had grabbed my hand underneath the sheets. "How are you?"

"I've been better." He raked his eyes over Draco, who'd barely even lifted his head to peer at Snape through thin lids. Snape addressed him dryly. "Mr. Malfoy."

"Professor."

Snape glared between the two of us for a few moments before looking solely at me, his arms crossed over his chest. 

"If I might have a moment of your time, Miss Woodwick, I have a matter of utmost importance to discuss with you."

"Of course, sir." I nodded innocently, trying not to show the horror creeping up through me.

"Wonderful." Snape raised his eyebrows, "I'd prefer to speak to you out in the hallway, if you don't mind. After all, we wouldn't want to disturb Mr. Malfoy in his...less than fortunate state."

Draco tightened his jaw. 

"Fine." I nodded again, "Give me one moment, please."

Snape barely moved his head in agreement before turning around and whisking back out of the room, leaving me to stare blankly at the spot where he'd just been standing. 

"It's over." I breathed, "I'm going to have so much detention I'll never see you again."

Draco squeezed my hand limply. 

"Tell him that I requested for you to come here. Say it was my dying wish."

"Draco, please, you're not dying."

"Who says?"

I could only roll my eyes at him as I slipped off the cot and onto the floor, the absence of the blankets making me shiver. 

"Hey," Draco grabbed my wrist just as I was beginning to walk away, "Come back, will you?"

I turned back towards him, my expression soft. 

"I'll try. You know I'll try."

Draco stalled, seeming to have something else to say. But instead, he just repeated what he'd told me before. 

"Just come back," He gripped my wrist tighter, "It's important."

"Okay." I nodded, trying not to focus on the pain I found in his eyes, "I will."

When I found Snape out in the hallway, he already looked prepared to cast a killing curse on me before I'd even spoken a single word. I just stopped in front of him, prepared to accept any punishment he was about to give me. 

"So," He spoke, his voice threaded with ill-concealed rage, "Not only have you disobeyed my clear instructions to stay away from Mr. Malfoy all together, you have also gone a step further."

"I'm not sure what you mean professor."

Snape scoffed. 

"Oh really? So I would be wrong in saying that you attempted to trap him with a pregnancy?"

I froze, my face going as pale as Draco's.

"What, what?"

"Two nights ago, a contraceptive potion was stolen from my stores. Do you deny that you are the one who drank it?"

"I--"

"I'm assuming that Draco stole it from my office and forced you to down it after you tried to entrap him with a pregnancy. Correct?"

"No! No, that's not what happened at all!"

"Then please," Snape lowered his voice dangerously, "Explain yourself."

"I didn't try to trap him with anything." I spat, my face burning with a mixture of pure humiliation that I was having this type of conversation with my Professor, and rage that he was accusing me of such a horrible thing in the first place. "Draco's the one who forgot to preform a contraceptive charm. Not me. I was the one who realized our mistake, and suggested that we find a way to -- fix -- the problem."

"So you stole it on your own."

"No, Draco was the one who suggested where to find the potion. He said you might have it. We went together to retrieve it the other night."

Snape scanned his dark eyes up and down my figure, seeming to look for any hint that I was lying. But I only stared back at him, my gaze harsh and unrelenting, until he scoffed, tearing away and refusing to look at me any longer. 

"Fine." He hissed, "So you didn't attempt to entrap him. But you still went against my clear instructions never to see him again, and stole from my office. If it were up to me, you'd be expelled immediately."

"I am not going to abandon him." I ignored the stolen potion part, "I don't care what you tell me, I won't do it."

"Your devotion to him is pointless. What do you think you'll gain from him?"

"Gain?" I scoffed, "I'm not trying to gain anything, I lo--"

"That." Snape cut me off, "Is not something that someone of your age can understand. You have an infatuation with him. Nothing more."

I could only stare, suspended in utter disbelief at Snape's words. 

"You'll have detention every night at eight o'clock in my office for the next month." He continued, "If you fail to present yourself, I'll happily double it."

My fists were balled so tightly I thought my bones might snap. 

"And about Mr. Malfoy," He raised his nose at me, "I tried to help you both, and you've chosen to ignore my advice. Any pain that comes your way because of your choices is entirely your own fault."

And with that, he whisked away down the corridor, leaving me standing with so much anger in me I thought I might explode.


	43. Can I Kiss It?

I didn't go back to see Draco that afternoon. I couldn't. I was too furious with Snape to even toy with the idea of pretending to be in a good mood for him. But I would go back that night. That, I was sure of. 

He needed me. I wasn't exactly sure what his reasoning behind it was, but he did. And I was not about to fail him. 

Detention with Snape that night was pretty much exactly what I expected it to be. Meaningless busy work with the intent to drive me up the walls. But I did it with a smile -- fake or not, it didn't matter -- and got out in five hours, my fingertips wrinkled and sore from having to scrub down every last potion bottle on Snape's impossibly high shelves. He said the next night, I'd be in charge of finding the ingredients for him to remake the concoction I'd stolen. 

It was one in the morning by the time I finally began back to the infirmary, my back aching from having to sit on the floor of Snape's office for so long, but I straightened my spine anyway. I didn't want Draco to know how much detention I'd gotten, or how else Snape planned to torture me while I was there. He didn't need anything more to worry about. If he asked, I planned to tell him that I got a harsh scolding out in the hallway and nothing else. 

The infirmary was dead quiet as I opened the doors, slipping inside and glancing around for anyone awake or alert enough to spot me. But to my relief, Draco's bed was the only one with anyone in it, the rest of the room utterly deserted. I wondered where Madame Pomfrey slept. But clearly, it wasn't here. 

Draco seemed to be fast asleep as I approached him, though he twitched slightly every few seconds, moaning softly and scrunching his face up into a pained expression. I guessed he wouldn't mind me waking him up from whatever unpleasant dream he seemed to be having. 

"Hey," I laid my hand lightly on his left forearm, trying to wake him, "I'm back."

But to my horror, instead of waking him up gently like I'd intended to, my action had the opposite effect. 

Draco's eyes shot open as soon as I'd touched him, but they didn't focus on me. And a second later, his face turned that horrible pale color and he dove for the bucket on his bedside table. He was coughing and gagging into it before I could process what was happening, his body shaking more and more with each retch. 

"Shit," I cursed under my breath, feeling immediately guilty, "Shit, Draco, I'm so sorry."

He couldn't respond, too busy gasping for breath between gags to come up with words, but I just laid my hand on his back, rubbing out the tension and knots in his muscles until his vomiting finally came to an end. 

When he'd finally finished, he looked so exhausted that I wasn't sure he'd even be able to open his eyes, much less process that I was there next to him. His head fell back into his pillow, his lips white and discolored as the pigment refused to return to his face. 

He was covered in the same thick sweat along his hairline, but every few seconds, he shivered, seeming to be fighting a hot flash and a chill at the same time. 

He was still clutching the bucket by his side, his knuckles gripping so tightly that I could see the outline of his bones through his skin, and he groaned, his expression pained and sad. 

I sighed, my heart aching for him as I slipped up onto the side of his cot, leaning forward and running my hand across his forehead. 

Still burning. 

"I'm sorry I woke you," I whispered, cupping the side of his pale face with my palm, "I should've just let you sleep."

"No," His voice croaked out, so weak that it was almost hollow, "I wanted to see you. It's--" He paused, swallowing back another gag, "Fine." Wincing, I slid my hand down his chest, feeling his still slamming heartbeat underneath the fabric of his sweater. 

"Do you want me to get you anything?" I asked, "Anything at all."

"No," He shook his head so weakly that there was barely any movement, "Just lay here with me. Please."

Please. 

I wasn't sure if I'd ever heard him use that word before. But nevertheless, the request made me smile, a warmth blooming through my chest that I was sure translated to the blush on my cheeks. But luckily, it was dark, and even if his eyes had been open, he wouldn't have been able to see it. 

"Alright." I whispered, sliding forward and nuzzling up to his side, letting his head fall into the crook of my shoulder and running my fingertips along his scalp. I brushed the loose strands of hair away from his forehead, tucking them back into place and smoothing out the unbrushed look he'd achieved. 

Every time I ran my nails through his scalp, he hummed softly, and I could feel my heart glowing, the smile on my face so wide that it threatened to be painful. 

"I've never felt like this before," He managed, "I don't even think I could stand if I tried."

"It's okay," I traced my thumb over the shell of his ear, making him shiver. "Everyone gets sick sometimes."

At my words, Draco paused, his muscles tensing under my touch like I'd struck him. I furrowed my brows. 

"What? Did I say something?"

"No." He mumbled, "No, you didn't."

A few more moments of silence, and I asked again. 

"Are you sure?"

Draco only sighed, his ribcage shuddering as he attempted a deep breath. 

"It's nothing."

I was entirely unconvinced. 

"Draco," I said softly, tracing along his scalp again and making his breath hitch, "What is it?"

Now, he was silent. 

"Draco."

"Don't say my name like that." He muttered weakly, and I rolled my eyes. 

"Then why don't you tell me what's going on?"

He stiffened before letting the tension release, clearly too exhausted to put up much of a fight. And with a groan, he forced himself into a more upright position, still leaning against me for support but taking his head off of my shoulder. 

When he was sitting next to me, he opened his eyes, the color of them so pale that I was curious if they'd ever return to normal. 

"You're --" He managed, "You're going to leave."

"What?" I shook my head vehemently, "No, I'm not. I'm never going to leave."

"You are." His voice was so hollow sounding now that it was almost like he wanted to cry. But at the same time, I figured he didn't have the energy to. "And if you did, I wouldn't blame you."

"Hey," I reached up, grabbing his face between my hands and ghosting my thumb across his cheek, "No matter what happens, I'm not leaving, okay? I'm never going to leave you."

Draco didn't respond -- just stared at me like it was all he could remember to do. And no matter how many times I repeated "I'm not leaving, I promise", the look on his face didn't change. 

I'd never seen him so -- utterly hopeless.

"What can I say that'll convince you?" I breathed.

"Nothing." He pulled away from my hands, "You can't convince me of that."

"Draco--"

"You don't know what you're agreeing to when you say that."

"Then tell me," I grabbed his hands, squeezing them in mine, "Please, Draco. I want to help you."

I could see it in his eyes -- the desperate pleading for me to understand without him having to speak. And I wished in that moment that I could just read his mind. Because clearly, whatever it was that he was hiding was so painful that he couldn't even bring the words to his lips to admit it. 

But after a moment, I realized something. 

He didn't have to say it out loud. 

"Draco," I whispered, "I'm going to pull up your sleeve."

Immediately, his face turned cold. 

"What?"

"I'm going to put my hand on your arm," I slipped my grip away from his, raising my hand and letting him watch with frozen eyes as I rested it on his left bicep. "And I'm going to pull up your sleeve, okay?"

"Don't." Was all he hissed out as I slid my hand lower, until I'd reached his elbow. But he didn't pull away. I'd expected for him to pull away. 

"It's alright." I whispered as I moved lower again, although I avoided the spot I'd grabbed earlier. If my growing suspicions were correct, it would make him vomit again. Instead, I touched at the cuff of his sleeve, pausing and glancing back up at him. 

His face was as pale as I'd ever seen it before, half from sickness and half from the obvious terror coursing through him, evident by the now violent shaking of his hands. 

"I'm going to pull up your sleeve." I repeated, keeping my eyes locked on his. "And it's going to be okay."

Draco's bottom lip quivered, but he just stared back at me as I gripped the fabric between my fingertips, slowly beginning to drag it upwards. 

At first, I was afraid to look. 

Afraid to break eye contact. 

Afraid to see what I knew without a doubt was there. 

But I knew I had to. And I also knew that I had to stay strong -- for him. He couldn't see me crumble now. He was too fragile. It was my turn to be the calm one. 

So slowly, with a shuddering breath, I tore my eyes away from his, glancing down at his now exposed forearm and feeling my blood run cold as my gaze focused on it. 

The Dark Mark.

Draco didn't flinch as I gripped his wrist, holding it out on his lap in plain sight. But I could feel my heart beginning to slam, the sight of it sending a million different thoughts through my mind -- most of them too overwhelming to bare considering. 

It was almost like I could feel the dark magic radiating off of it as I stared, my hand clamped over his wrist and almost touching the bottom of the shape. 

I'd never seen it before. 

The skull symbol at the top snaked down into what looked like a python's slim body, curving and curling until it came to an end, with a serpent's head open and ready to strike. 

I didn't speak for a while. I wanted to be ready when I did. Calm. Collected. But that wasn't at all how I was feeling. 

"How--" I struggled to force my words out steadily, "How long?"

"Since the summer before the school year started." Draco's voice sounded emptier than it ever had before. I assumed that he expected me to run away at any moment. But that was the last thing on my mind. 

"Is it -- painful?"

Draco nodded weakly. 

"And...Is this what's making you so sick?"

Another nod. My heart crumpled like a flower, crushed in someone's fist. 

"God -- I'm so sorry."

"I don't want your pity."

"I know." I slid my hand into his, "But I'm still sorry."

We were quiet for a bit. 

"What's it doing to you?" I looked back into his eyes, "I mean, if you've had it for so long, why is it making you so sick now?"

Draco scoffed. 

"I assume it's a mixture of things. From what I understand, the dark magic in it doesn't react well to resistance -- mental or physical. So the more I think about it, the sicker it makes me. Of course when I already feel this awful it's all I can think about."

I ran my thumb over the back of his hand, feeling the cold clamminess of his palms. 

"So, you're resisting it?"

"I'm not meaning to." He was being sure to keep his eyes away from mine. "I just...am."

"Because you didn't want it."

"No." He corrected me quickly, "I did want it. At first..."

I shook my head, more than confused. 

"But why?"

"Because my father was sent to Azkaban," He spat, "And the Dark Lord was disappointed in his performance, so he turned to me. And when I first learned about what he was planning to do, I was proud. I'd be the youngest Death Eater in his whole army. I'd get to avenge my father, I'd--" He stopped, choking back what seemed like another gag. "Never mind. What's important is that I wasn't resistant to the idea at first. It was only later that..." His voice trailed off, and he sighed. 

"That I changed my mind."

I nodded slowly, flipping his hand over as he finished speaking and tracing the lines in his palm with my pointer finger. 

"And what made you change your mind?"

"I don't know, Mudblood--"

"Draco."

He shook his head, sighing again. 

"You."

My heart nearly leapt out of my chest as I turned to meet his eyes. They were softer now. More relaxed. I was sure that getting the secret he'd been keeping for months off his chest was more than relieving. 

"Me?"

Draco nodded, but I could only stare. 

"I don't understand."

"I already told you," He mumbled, "That night on the astronomy tower. I would have jumped if you hadn't been there. And I would have gone back the next night if you hadn't made me feel like I had something to live for."

My bottom lip was trembling now, and I just wrapped my arm around the back of his neck, bringing him against me and holding him close. I could still smell the faint scent of his cologne, though I was sure he hadn't put any on in days, and I smiled, feeling the warmth of his body against mine. 

"That mark doesn't define you." I breathed, right beside his ear, "You know that, right?"

Draco only tensed again, his muscles taught and hardened. 

"Sometimes it's easy to forget."

"I'll keep reminding you then. You are not evil, Draco."

"I am."

"You're not."

"I've done things." He whispered, "Awful things that would shock you."

"What, like cursing Katie Bell?"

Instantly, he recoiled. When I caught a glimpse at his face, he looked utterly horrified. 

"How--"

"I'm smarter than you give me credit for." I held his cold stare, "I've had things figured out for a while now."

I couldn't tell whether he was furious or surprised, or maybe just impressed that I'd put the pieces together. But regardless, he didn't speak for a while after that, looking down at his arm and breathing slowly. 

"Draco," I finally broke the silence, "You're a good person."

"You're wrong."

I shook my head, offering him a weak smile. 

"If I were wrong, then you wouldn't have saved my life on four different occasions."

"That doesn't make me a good person. It just means I'm not a monster."

"Fine, then." I squeezed his hand, "You're not a monster. And you're not an amazing person, either. You're somewhere in between, just like the rest of us."

He didn't respond, but the way he held my hand let me know that he appreciated what I'd said. I could tell when he leaned over, resting his head on my shoulder and closing his eyes, too tired to stay upright any longer. I could tell when he raised my hand in his, planting a soft kiss on my knuckles before letting our arms fall back down on the mattress. And I could tell when he wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me closer to him until we were curled around each other under the sheets, his head laying on my chest and nuzzling as close as possible to the sound of my heartbeat. 

"Draco?" I whispered after a few minutes, and he looked up through tired eyelids. 

"Hm?"

"Can I kiss it?"

He paused, seeming confused. 

"I don't know, Mudblood."

"It's just -- you said it's painful. And whenever I used to get hurt, my mom would kiss the spot where I'd hurt myself."

Draco smirked weakly. 

"I'm not sure that this is the same thing."

"I know," I admitted, "I just wanted to try."

Draco considered it for a moment before sighing, closing his eyes again and huddling closer to my side. 

"You can kiss it."

I nodded, trying to calm the shaking of my hands as I reached for his arm, lifting it slightly off the mattress and bringing his hand in front of my face. I looked closely at his palms. His slender fingers. His wrist. The veins on the back of his hand. 

And I traced my lips gingerly along every bit of his skin, kissing softly in the places where I knew his pressure points were hidden. Draco kept his eyes closed at first, only shifting slightly under the covers to give me any indication that he was even still awake. 

But as I continued, growing closer and closer to the Mark, he became more sensitive, twitching every time I kissed somewhere were his nerves reacted. 

"S--" A few times, he almost told me to stop. But before the word ever escaped past his lips, he would catch it, biting his tongue and letting me continue. 

I was centimeters from the mark now, my lips tracing so delicately over his skin that I was surprised he could feel it at all. But when there was no where else to go, I paused, seeing it under my nose as I held his arm close to my face. 

"You're sure this is okay?" I glanced up at him, who looked equally interested to see what would happen, but also horrified at the same time. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't." He nodded, "It's okay."

His tone didn't seem entirely confident in what he was saying, but I took his word for it, preparing myself for a bad reaction before I pressed my lips softly against the center of the mark, instantly feeling a cold, dark sensation wash through me. 

It was like being electrocuted, but instead of pain, it was more like a drug being injected into my veins, drawing me in deeper and deeper until my tongue was tracing along the snake-like pattern of the mark, following its curves and listening as Draco choked and gasped above me. 

I'd closed my eyes, but I could still hear and feel him perfectly well, his arm twitching every time my mouth shifted against him. He was drawing in quick, short breaths the longer I went without stopping, and for some reason, his reaction only made me want to do it more.

"Does it hurt?" I mumbled against him, "Should I stop?"

"No." He gasped, my tongue tracing over the skull, "No. Don't stop. Please, don't stop."

I smiled against him, continuing to follow the lines of the tattoo, and beginning to travel further up his arm. 

He watched me in silence as I did, and eventually, I'd reached his shoulder, coming up and over his chest to his neck. I kissed softly at the exposed skin there, along his collarbone and over the muscles in his shoulder. The side of his throat. His sharp, defined jawline. His cheek. 

I'd reached his mouth before long, his lips slightly parted as I paused, pulling back for a moment and letting him stare at me. 

"Lie back," I whispered, leaning forward and ghosting my mouth against his, holding back just enough so that it wasn't a kiss yet. He complied with no resistance, sinking back into the pillow and letting me slide on top of him, my legs straddling his waist as I positioned myself. 

"Is this okay?" I mumbled against his lips, and he nodded weakly. 

"Yes."

With a soft hum, I tilted my head to the side, letting his mouth slide into place against mine and falling into him, my hands moving up to the back of his neck and supporting him as we melted together. 

"I'm going to make you feel good." I muttered between kisses, "I'm going to make you forget that you've ever felt any kind of pain."

"I can barely move, you know?"

"That's fine." I brushed strands of his hair away from his face, "I'll do all the moving."

I rocked forward slowly, over and over again, our hips grinding together as Draco moaned, the sound low and gravely from the back of his throat. I could feel a sensation blooming in my abdomen as I moved on top of him, the friction heating up the space between my legs and making me lightheaded, a throbbing spreading through my core. 

And a second later, I could feel that bulge in his sweatpants, pressing against the side of my leg and making me even more eager. With one hand, I unzipped my skirt, sliding it down my hips with my underwear until my bare skin was exposed, meeting the fabric of his pants as I rocked on top of him. 

My hand slipped down...down...down underneath the sheets until I felt the waistline of his sweatpants against my fingertips. I paused as I reached it, pulling back from his lips for a moment to meet his eyes. 

"Still okay?"

He nodded quickly. 

Kissing him like it was keeping me alive, I grabbed the fabric between my fingertips, sliding it down hips hips until his boxers were exposed. I moved those out of the way next, feeling my heart skip a beat as I touched bare skin, his hips instinctively bucking forward as my hand came into contact with his shaft. 

"Stop," I whispered, my mouth falling next to his ear, "Don't tire yourself out."

He nodded feverishly as I breathed in shuddered gasps, wrapping my hand around it and positioning myself on top of him. But before I could do anything else, Draco interrupted. 

"Wait," His eyes met mine, "The charm."

"Oh, right." I nodded quickly, watching as Draco reached over to the bedside table, grabbing his wand and pointing it at my abdomen. He muttered something I couldn't quite make out as a purple streak shot from it's tip, illuminating my stomach in a pinkish glow before fading away. He nodded as it disappeared, and I sighed, thankful that at least this time, we hadn't forgotten.

But then, I remembered what I was about to do, and I felt a wave of nervousness wash over me. 

I was afraid of what it would feel like for a moment. Afraid that I would wince, and scare him away. But I couldn't think about that now. I couldn't let fear get in the way. Because I wanted to make him feel good. And hopefully, this would do the trick. 

So banishing my hesitations, I sunk down onto him, feeling his length push into me with a tight pressure, a gasp escaping past both of our lips. 

For a moment, it seemed that we were both afraid to move. Afraid to shift, and break something. Ruin the feeling of the moment. 

But slowly, I recovered from the shock, taking in a shaky breath and bringing myself to rock forward against him, hearing a hiss spill from his lips, pinched together tightly. 

Again, he tried to buck his hips towards me, but I pushed him back down with a hand on his chest, leaning down and pressing my lips back against his. 

"Is this good?" I breathed, and he nodded feverishly, his hands coming up to grab the sides of my face. His fingertips dug into my scalp, pulling me closer as I shifted my hips against his, feeling him slide deeper and making white flash behind my eyelids. 

"God--" I gasped, and I could feel that cocky smirk I loved so much form on his lips. 

"You feel so good." He murmured, his breath hot against the side of my face as our mouths parted. "You make me feel so good."

"Good." I echoed, "Good, good, good..."

Grabbing onto his shoulders, I pushed myself forward, leading him all the way in and making his breath hitch below me. 

"Fuck -- like that--" He moved his hands down to my waist, rocking me back and forth on top of him, "Just like that--"

Every part of my body was on fire. Because I'd never heard him talk like that before. Like he was desperate. 

"Is that how you like for me to ride you, Draco?" I whispered into his ear, to which he nodded weakly. "Or would you like me to go slower?"

I paused, readjusting my position before I pushed forward in a longer, more drawn out movement, watching his head fall back into the pillow, his mouth hanging open wordlessly. Only a low moan escaped, and he gasped, his fingertips leaving red imprints on my hips. I could barely speak as the pleasure began to build in my abdomen, leaving me breathless and dizzy. 

"Tell me what you want me to do to you."

"Don't stop--" He whimpered, so weakly that I thought he might faint. "Please -- fuck -- don't stop."

"I won't." I sped up a bit, feeling a tightness I'd never felt before building low in my stomach. Every time I led him deeper, the sensation only increased, my heart rate speeding up with it.

I'd closed my eyes, one hand on Draco's chest as rocked back and forth on top of him, when I felt it. 

It was like a shock of electricity, shooting up through my core as the feeling hit me, making me gasp and look down towards the space in between my legs. I stared with wide eyes, whimpering as Draco's thumb began to rub slow, drawn out circles around my clit, his eyes not even on me. They were closed, or at least half way shut, his mouth open as he moaned softly. 

"What are you doing?" I heard myself whisper, and a smirk crossed his lips. 

"You don't get to be in charge of this whole thing, Mudblood."

I smiled. That's where he was wrong. 

Suddenly, I stopped moving. 

Draco's eyes cracked open wide, and he looked up towards me, his expression equally aggravated and shocked. 

"What are you doing?"

"Say I'm in charge." I leaned towards his lips, staying just far enough away so that he couldn't reach me. 

"You are not--"

I started to slide off of him. 

"Fuck -- no, you're in charge, all right? You're in charge."

"That's right." I started to move again, a triumphant smile on my lips, "I'm in charge. Now lay back and let me do this."

He huffed, sinking back down into his pillow as I picked up my pace, his thumb still teasing my clit with skilled, practiced movements. It was the motion of it. The way his wrist pivoted in response to every whimper I made. The perfect amount of pressure, making my vision go blurry and unfocused. 

He knew what he was doing. 

I was the inexperienced one out of the two of us. But his sickness -- as selfish as it was for me to be grateful for it -- was giving me an advantage. Because I could tell he was already exhausted, the way he was breathing making me slightly concerned that he might hyperventilate. But if he was, he didn't let it show in his expression, or in the way he kept pushing his hips up towards me, trying desperately to maintain some sort of control over the situation. 

A smile crossed my lips. He must have been used to being on top. 

I leaned forward again, my head tilting to the side as I slanted our mouths together, his tongue swiping across my bottom lip before sliding past my teeth. I groaned, rocking forward harder than I had before and feeling him inside of me, a low growl vibrating from the back of his throat. 

"Please--" He gasped against my mouth, "Fuck -- that's right, just like that--"

God, he couldn't have known what he was doing to me when he said those things. But he may have had some idea from the way I whimpered, moaning into him and gripping his shirt tightly between my fists. And yanking him towards me, I could suddenly feel something -- a sensation, strong and overwhelming, building low in my abdomen. 

And the longer I payed attention to it, the stronger it became, building and building until it reached a point of near collapse. I could feel my chest heaving, my heart slamming so quickly that my ribcage was surely going to burst.

I pulled away from his lips for a moment, my eyes wide with panic and my mouth hanging open in loud whimpers. 

"Draco--" I gasped, "Fuck -- I'm -- oh, god--"

I only felt him smile as his lips crashed back into mine, and before I could process what was happening, he'd gripped my hips tightly, arching his back towards me and thrusting his hips against mine. And in a split second, my world exploded. 

I felt my self snap, a wave of pleasure washing through me like I was being electrocuted, and I moaned into his mouth, the sound being drowned out by his tongue, still working around mine. I was shivering, clinging to his shirt as my body nearly collapsed, every nerve in my system frayed with overstimulation. 

I only came back into reality when I felt him quiver beneath me, his hips jerking forward once more before he gasped, moaning loudly and digging his fingertips even tighter into my hips. 

"Fuck--" I could make out a single word as he repeated it over and over again, our lips still locked as his hands moved into my hair. And when he finally stopped muttering it, we both pulled away, our chests still heaving as we stared at each other. 

I wasn't sure whether it was disbelief or satisfaction on his face, but either way, I felt myself smile, collapsing on top of him and letting my head rest against his chest. We didn't speak for a while after that, focusing instead on catching our breaths and letting the quiet of the empty infirmary calm our frayed nerves. 

It must have been almost half an hour later by the time I finally broke the silence. 

"Did that help?"

Draco's chest rose with a huffed laugh, and I felt his fingertips curl tightly into the fabric of my shirt. 

"It may have helped a bit."


	44. No One Ever Does

I slipped out of the infirmary once Draco had drifted off, rushing back into my dorm room and getting into bed before anyone would notice that I'd left. 

And the next morning, no one seemed to care that I looked like I hadn't gotten a single blink of sleep all night long. I had a relieved, cheery feeling filling my chest as I walked into the Great Hall, my pulse quickening as I spotted Hermione, Harry, and Ron sitting at the Gryffindor table. Walking briskly up next to them, I took a seat by Ron's side, facing towards Harry and Hermione with a smile. 

"Good morning." I said innocently, "Anything good for breakfast today?"

"What happened yesterday?" Hermione didn't hesitate to get straight to the point, her expression serious and tight. I just shrugged. 

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"I mean when you bolted out of here after I told you Malfoy was sick in the infirmary." She thinned her eyes, "And if I didn't know any better, I'd say that it almost seemed like you wanted to go see him."

"That's ridiculous." I poured myself a cup of pumpkin juice, sipping at it. "Why would I want to see him?"

"Oh, I don't know." Hermione's brows furrowed, and she crossed her arms. Ready to pounce. "Maybe because you two are sleeping together?"

The drink I was swallowing caught in my throat like a gasped breath, and I choked, coughing into the palm of my hand as I tore my eyes away. 

"What?" I finally spluttered, trying not to vomit. 

"Oh, don't you dare deny it." Hermione lowered her voice, hissing in a whispered tone. "I've had my suspicions for weeks. But after yesterday's display--"

"I am not sleeping with Draco Malfoy." I snapped, "Why would you even think--"

"Well, for one, whenever some mentions his name you get an expression like you've just seen a ghost--"

"--that I would associate myself with someone like him--"

"--and you're always staring longingly at him in the halls--"

"--he makes me so angry, why would I ever put myself through that kind of--"

"--and when you walked with us to Hogsmeade the other day, you had to buy new jeans because your skirt was covered in his--" Hermione stopped suddenly, sucking in a quick breath and pulling herself back into a composed position. I just stared, my mouth hanging open slightly at the horrific realization that she really had figured it out. 

Was there even any point in denying it now? She knew. And it was likely that she'd known for weeks, and had somehow managed not to blurt it out until now. I supposed she'd been able to stomach the idea of us liking each other, but now that we'd crossed a new line physically...

Her lips were pulled into a deep frown, and she tore her eyes from mine, looking down at the table and sighing. Harry and Ron hadn't said a word the entire time, and were now just staring blankly between the two of us, Harry's mouth hanging open slightly. 

But then he turned to me, shaking his head slowly from side to side. 

"Is it true, then?" He whispered, and with a sinking sensation in my stomach, I allowed myself to nod. 

"I knew it." Hermione closed her eyes, as if what I was admitting was the worst atrocity anyone could ever commit. 

"I don't understand what's so horrible about it, Hermione." I mumbled, feeling blush bite at my cheeks. "He's -- he's not what you think he is."

"You don't understand?" Hermione looked back in my direction, her expression a mixture of shock and something like anger. But there was something else behind it. Something deeper. "Must I remind you of what he's got on his arm?"

"He doesn't want it, 'Mione!" I whisper-hissed, "Do you even know why he was in the infirmary? Because he's resisting it."

"It doesn't matter." She shook her head, "He's one of them now, whether he wanted it or not. And he's going to do whatever You-Know-Who tells him to do."

"You don't know that..."

"I do know that." Hermione hissed, and Harry nodded weakly. My heart lurched. "He's a spineless, evil little cockroach, and for you to let him manipulate you like this--"

"Manipulate me?" I scoffed, "You have no idea what you're talking about! I'm the one who pursued him. I'm the one who put myself in this position."

"I'm sure that's what he's gotten you to believe." She sighed, running her hands frustratedly through her hair, "But Cass, you've got to listen to me. He will never love you the way you want him to."

"Hermione, stop it."

"I am telling you the truth, whether you want to hear it or not. He is not a good person."

"You don't know him!" I hissed, "You have no idea who he is, or what he's like when he's not around other people."

"All I know is that he's bad news. And you know it, too, whether you want to admit it or not."

I could feel my cheeks burning, my chest tight with anger as I stared at her, my eyes as thin as they could possibly get. 

"You're wrong." I breathed, and Hermione only scoffed. 

"I'm never wrong."

A second later, she was standing, grabbing Harry by the collar and yanking him away from the table with her. Ron eyed me nervously for a moment before he spoke. 

"He is a slimy git, Cass. I hope you know what you're getting yourself into."

Then he was gone, too, following them out of the Great Hall and leaving me alone at the table, my hands shaking with rage.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At least thirty minutes passed before I spotted the flash of blonde out of the corner of my eye, darting past the doorway of the Great Hall and making me leap out of my seat to chase after it. Luckily, it was still rather early morning, and it seemed that most people were still asleep, or just beginning to trickle down to breakfast. So as I scrambled out into the courtyard, finding Draco walking quickly towards the exit in front of me, no one else was around. 

"Draco!" I called, my voice instantly making him freeze in place, his arms going stiff by his sides. I noticed that his sleeves were pulled back down over his forearms as he turned to face me. The Mark was hidden from view once again. "Hey," I reached for him, slipping my hand into his as I came up in front of him. "I didn't know you were getting released so soon."

"I didn't either." He said, his palm still cold and clammy in mine. He looked a little better. Less sickly, and the tiniest bit more colorful than he had been before. The purple circles under his eyes had faded to a light gray, and he seemed to be able to breathe normally without the threat of gagging. 

But he didn't seem to be fully back to his normal self, either. And there was a certain stiffness in his grip. Like the idea of holding my hand went against his natural instincts. And I supposed that maybe it did. He sighed before continuing. 

"But I woke up this morning feeling... decent. Madame Pomfrey said I was free to go after I drank a few glasses of water."

"Well that's good, isn't it?" I squeezed his fingers, "I mean, if it's not making you sick--"

"I don't feel good, Mudblood." He cut me off, his tone harsh. "I'm just not vomiting anymore."

"Oh." I nodded weakly, dropping my gaze and focusing it on the ground. I heard Draco sigh again above me. 

"You look upset." He mumbled, "What is it?"

"Oh, it's nothing. I just got in a fight with Hermione and...things got pretty heated."

Draco huffed, his lips curving into a smirk. 

"Oh really? What did Granger have to say that made you so angry?"

My stomach churned nervously, and I hesitated for a moment before answering. I didn't want him to think I was embarrassed that she'd found out. But I also didn't want him to think I was going around telling people. He didn't seem to want anyone to know. 

"She knows." I mumbled, feeling Draco's grip tighten. "About...us."

When he finally responded, his voice was tight. Cold. Like he was trying to hold back some sort of outburst of anger. 

"How?"

"I don't know." I shook my head, "I didn't tell her. She just...figured it out."

"Bloody hell..." Draco pulled his hand from mind, running it through his hair. He'd combed it back today, instead of leaving it disheveled like it had been the night before. "Does anyone else know?"

"Harry," I gulped, "And Ron."

"Of fucking course." Draco closed his eyes, his jaw taught. "So the whole bloody golden trio knows?"

"Yes, but I don't think they'll tell anyone." I mumbled, heat coming back to my face as Draco's frustration level only seemed to rise. 

"Oh, I'm sure all of Gryffindor knows by now." He dropped his hands back down by his sides, his fists flexing. "And then it's only a matter of time before it gets back to people who actually matter."

"What, like your friends?" I snapped, "Or do you even have any of those anymore?"

Draco's expression flashed. Turned cold in a split second as his icy eyes met mine. His lip curled up into a snarl, and he took a step towards me, looming tall over my head. 

"No, I don't have any of those anymore." He whispered in a tone so low it was nearly a growl, "And you know why? Because my entire fucking life has been turned upside down, and I don't have time to deal with people that aren't worth keeping around."

"Who's worth keeping around, then?" I breathed, "Me? Or am I just some sort of meaningless distraction?"

Draco turned away. Started to walk. 

"Stop." I demanded. 

He ignored me. 

"Draco I swear if you don't turn around--"

Still, nothing. So without thinking, I rushed forward, grabbing his arm with a harsh grip and yanking him back around towards me. But I didn't realize in the heat of the moment which arm I was grabbing. And when my fingertips connected with his left forearm, digging tightly into his flesh, he went as white as a ghost. 

He whipped around, seeming ready to scream at me, but instead, let out a pained cry, his legs failing him as he collapsed onto his hands and knees. I could only stare in horror at what I'd just done, my ears ringing with the sound of his agony as he shivered on the ground, his whole body seeming to convulse with pain. 

"Don't--" He gasped, "Ever do that again."

"I'm so sorry," I breathed, kneeling on the ground next to him and watching as another shiver overtook him. I wanted to reach out and touch his shoulder. Rub his back. Sooth him in some way. But I couldn't bring myself to raise my arm from my side. Not even a little bit. I was completely frozen. "I -- I didn't even think about it."

"Yeah," He growled, pushing himself up off the ground and wiping his knees. There was dirt and dust staining his trousers. "No one ever does."

And then he was gone. Walking away before I could possibly get another word in and disappearing back into the shadows of the castle.

His flash of blonde hair was the last thing I saw before he faded away, leaving me alone in the empty courtyard with a horrible, sickening feeling in my stomach that I'd just hurt him. Accidentally, but I had. And what was worse, I'd hurt him when he was vulnerable. Weak. Fragile. 

My touch had hurt him. 

I wondered how long it would take for him to let me try to touch him again.


End file.
